The Trouble With Maxwell
by Doc Reid
Summary: A disturbing case involving a City Councillor has Station House 4 scratching their heads.
1. Chapter 1

The rain was pelting down during the warm June evening storm. Puddles were quickly forming, and they reflected the lightning as it lit the sky, followed be crashes of thunder. Maxwell Best wasn't sure if the storm was intensifying or not; perhaps it was the wind-driven rain that made it seem worse. The middle aged man made his way along the alley, clutching a sack under his left armpit. He stopped and looked over his shoulder; certain that he was being followed.

Best swallowed hard as he prepared to continue on his way just as another bright flash lit up the alley. Rain dribbled off the brim of his bowler hat, which was also now soaking wet. He could feel the moisture on his scalp. Blinking away rain and sweat, he almost reached the road, when another flash of lightening light up the sky and alley. There, standing in front of him was a tall broad-shouldered man, who held a lantern, which lit the man's face, partially. Best didn't recognize him and was startled at first, slowly he relaxed thinking that the man was there to guide him to his destination, "You're just in time," he half laughed. "I wasn't exactly sure where I was going and I'm getting soaked to the core," he added.

The tall man said nothing. Instead he lunged forward, grabbing at the sack under Best's arm. Maxwell gasped, and tried to escape, but he was soon out muscled. The larger man pushed him hard to the soaked ground. The indecent was enough to cause Best to have a seizure causing him to fall onto his back and pass out. The larger man snatched the sack and dashed off into the night leaving Best laying in a puddle; the storm raged on.

It was a cool, damp and gloomy start to the work day; the storm had brought a cold front through, cooling everything down considerably. Inspector Brackenreid was at his desk sipping on a nice hot cup of tea, while perusing the newspaper. Detective William Murdoch had just arrived and entered his office, placing his hat on the rack, just inside the office door. He hadn't even made it to his desk when Constable George Crabtree popped through the door, "Detective?" he asked to get Murdoch's attention. "A body's been found, Sir," he notified Murdoch.

"Oh?" the Detective looked over to the Constable.

"Yes, Sir. Over near the old saddle company. I think the Inspector needs to see this, too," Crabtree stated.

By now the Inspector was at the other door to Murdoch's office, "What's this I hear?" he asked.

"A body has been found, Sir. You need to come to the scene. It's important," Crabtree repeated his statement.

Brackenreid's right eyebrow lifted at the comment, finding it a tad curious but soon brushed it off when the reality of the job set in, "Bloody hell. Do you think we'll get through a whole week without an incident?" Brackenreid huffed as he walked back to his office to gather his hat, coat and walking stick. Murdoch was in agreement of the Inspector's statement, as he too gathered his hat, and followed the Constable out of the building, with the Inspector at his side.

With in a half hour, the men reached the scene. Constable Henry Higgins was doing his best stop people from gawking from the roadway at the entrance of the alley. Best was about ten feet in. "I've notified Doctor Ogden, but she said that she would be here as soon as she could," Crabtree said.

Murdoch crossed his heart as he approached the prone man, "Do we have a cause of death?"

Crabtree shook his head no, "He doesn't look like any harm has come to him," he noted.

Brackenreid stepped closer, "That Councillor Maxwell Best," he stated as he looked at the Detective.

"I wondered that my self when I first saw him," Murdoch said as he crouched down and placed his hand on the man's neck, "He's stone cold," the Detective stated.

"That's why you needed to be here," Crabtree looked at the Inspector.

"He's a member of our Lodge," Brackenreid said to no-one in particular as he stared down at the man on the ground. "Have you found any evidence?" he then asked Crabtree.

"Only some partial footprints that lead out of the alley to the road," Crabtree pointed.

"What about this?" Murdoch used a metal tool he took from his breast pocket to open Best's right hand, which appeared to be clenching something.

Both Crabtree and Brackenreid crouched down for a better look, "What is it, Murdoch?" the Inspector question with keen interest. Carefully with the metal tool, Murdoch opened the man's hand and with tweezers he extracted a piece of the sack, "It appears that he was holding something before he collapsed," he said as he looked up at the two men who were with him.

It was just then that Doctor Julia Ogden arrive, "Sorry," she apologized as she approached the scene, "I came as quickly as I could. It's been one of those days."

"We know your a busy woman, Doctor," Brackenreid acknowledged the doctor's present. "This might be a bit of a puzzler for you," he added as he stood up. Crabtree was next to stand up.

"How so?" Julia questioned the Inspector.

"There doesn't appear to be any cause of death," William stated as stood up, although he was still looking down at the councillor.

"Oh," Julia murmured, "Let me have a look," she said as she moved to the body. After a cursory examination, as she would do at all crime scenes she looked up at William, "You're right," she said standing. "There are no signs of a struggle, or any signs of ill health," she added.

"Well something isn't quite right," Brackenreid said. "Councillor Best was an upstanding man, and well liked for his generosity toward charities. He wouldn't be in this alley for no reason," the Inspector stated factually.

Murdoch was surely intrigued with the case, "We need to find out what this is," he held up the small swatch of cloth.

"There's not much we can do with the footprints," Crabtree noted.

"We'll have to trace back Mister Best's last moves and known locations," Murdoch suggested.

"Looks like a trip to his office," Brackenreid said.

"Indeed, Sir," Murdoch agreed. "George, you and Higgins do what you can with the scene here," the Detective directed the two Constable. George nodded in understanding.

"I'll get the body back to the morgue, but I won't be able to get to him right away," Julia stated.

"That's fine, Julia," William smiled slightly. "I don't think Mister Best will be going anywhere," he added. "I'll stop in to talk to you later," Murdoch studied his wife's face. "I hope you find something by then that will help the case," Julia spoke.

"Me too," Brackenreid replied as the two men walked away.

"This is indeed a curious case," Julia said as she knelt down again to the man and studied his clothed body for any clues, but there appeared to be nothing visible. She looked up and watch William and the Inspector as they walked to the carriage. She could only imagine what they were talking about.

"We need to solve this case and fast," Brackenreid said as he settled onto the seat next to the Detective in the handsome.

"I understand, Sir. But without any concrete evidence to go on," he sentence trailed off as he glanced at his boss. Brackenreid was staring forward with an intense look on his face. Murdoch knew that any death of a politician brought even greater pressure onto the Inspector. "Hopefully we find something at his office," Murdoch offered.

Slowly Brackenreid looked over to his friend and colleague, "I hope so, Murdoch," he said in a quite voice. "I'd hate to have City Council breathing down my neck, or worse," his words were almost an urgent plea. William merely nodded, "Indeed."


	2. Chapter 2

Warren McWilliams slowly opened his eyes. At first he wondered why he was so damp feeling, but then remembered last night and the storm. The then remembered the sack which he had stowed under the hay he was sleeping in. With a gleeful look on his stubbled face, he shoved his hand into the hay and pulled out the burlap sack; he was certain it was a bank roll and that he's be debt free by the end of the day. By the weight of the sack it had to be a sizable amount, which got him even more excited.

McWilliams made a face, as his hand grabbed something other than paper money. He quickly pulled the object out and his mouth dropped open as he stared right into the tiny face of a shrunken head. "Gaaaa!" he scrambled to his feet and streaked out of the barn, dropping the shrunken head that landed on the barn floor with a dull thud. It didn't even roll.

McWilliams was so fast to his feet and out of the building hoping to erase the mental image as he wiped his hand on his trousers trying to get the feeling of the course hair off his hand. He stopped just past the doors, slowly turning to make sure what he saw, was what he saw. Sire enough the little head stared back at him, even though the eyes were shut.

He shuddered at the sight, but he wasn't going back to move it. He fanned his right hand at the shrunken head and darted off, hoping to forget about it. He could well imagine what the farmer would think once it was discovered. Surely it would even make the news.

"This is official police business," Brackenreid stated firmly to the receptionist at City Hall, whilst lifting his left lapel to show his badge. He rocked slightly on his heels.

"What kind of police business? Mister Best doesn't like people in his office if he's not there," the receptionist stated.

"Pardon me, Mrs.?" Murdoch waited, noting her wedding ring, also showing her his badge.

"Mrs. Kelly," she replied with a slight smile.

"Mrs. Kelly," Murdoch glanced at Brackenreid, who wore that look on his face when Murdoch seemed to ace him, "a serious matter has arisen and it involves Councillor Best. It would greatly help us, if we could have a look in his office," Murdoch's charm almost oozed out of him. Again Brackenreid made a face.

"Oh, my!" the receptionist replied. "I hope Mister Best is all right," she said standing up from behind her desk in the lobby of the large building, retrieving the master key. She didn't see Murdoch and Brackenreid exchange glances. "I'll let you into this office," Kelly said with concern.

"Much appreciated, Ma'am," Brackenreid used his own charm as they followed the receptionist down the hall. They waited beside Mrs. Kelly while she searched and finally found the key on the ring and unlocked the door; opening it into the room. Murdoch touched the brim of his hat as he side-stepped Mrs. Kelly and entered the room. Brackenreid was right behind him. They both looked at the receptionist long enough that she grew uncomfortable and went back to her desk. "Right. Now what are we looking for, Murdoch?" the Inspector asked as the studied the framed photographs on the wall. They were all photos of the councillor with "famous" people he had met. The Inspector seemed interested and slightly saddened thinking he too could have met some of these people, have he actually gotten elected. But deep down, he was quite certain that he made the right decision to stay with Station House No. 4.

Murdoch walked around to the back of Best's desk and scanned the surface. His agenda book was neatly centred on the blotter, "Let's start with this," the Detective suggested. The Inspector joined Murdoch at the desk and watched as the Detective carefully opened the leather bound book with this metal probe. William went right to the page with yesterday's date and listed events; there weren't many scheduled.

"It seems that Councillor Best had a meeting at three o'clock this afternoon," Murdoch looked up at his boss.

"Well, he's not going to make it. Who's it with and where?" Brackenreid questioned.

"It's only initials. R.W. and there's no location," the Detective stated as Brackenreid looked over his shoulder. "They must have been friends and it was a causal affair," Brackenreid surmised.

Murdoch flipped the page back, "It looks like they met yesterday at the same time," he again looked at his boss. Brackenreid twisted his mouth in thought, "I suppose they had business dealings then," he replied. "His other appointments have full names and locations of the meetings. Perhaps you're right about R. W.," he looked to his boss as he pondered the initials, but nothing came to mind.

"What's this?" Brackenreid asked as he poked at the corner of a newspaper clipping that was under the blotter, and mostly out of sight.

Murdoch used his tweezers to pull the slip of paper from under the blotter, "A news article about a theft at the University of Toronto," the Detective stated.

"That's not in our jurisdiction," Brackenreid flashed a smile as if he was off the hook from further investigation.

"Yes, but Councillor Best's body was found in ours, Sir," Murdoch reminded his boss.

"Bullocks," Brackenreid cursed, which caused the Detective to smirk slightly. "This isn't going to be an easy case, is it?" the Inspector then asked as he gave Murdoch a quick look.

"Well, if we can link these initials to the missing article from the University and Councillor Best, we might have a better chance to make lesser so, Sir," Murdoch stated.

Brackenreid clicked his fingers, "I think that Best was on the board of the University's antiquities collection group. He used to jabber on to us at the Lodge meetings of some of the things that people donate. And I have to say Murdoch, there are some loo-loos out there," the Inspector grunted.

"Yes, I'm sure there are," Murdoch mused. "I think we should go to the University next," he suggested.

"We should take that with us," Brackenreid pointed to the agenda book.

"I suppose it would be prudent," Murdoch stated. "We'll inform Mrs. Kelly that we've taken it."

"I suppose that's wise," Brackenreid said as he watched Murdoch cover the agenda book with his handkerchief. "Who knows what else that contains," he finally added.

"Indeed, Sir," Murdoch noted. "Now, let's get to the University before everyone's gone for the day," the Detective suggested as he took a quick peek at his pocket watch.

"No rest for the weary," Brackenreid sighed and continued to follow the Detective.

Dr. Julia Ogden had the men move the gurney with Maxwell Best's body into the cooler, "I'm afraid, Mr Best you'll just have to wait until I get back from other matters that need tending to," she smiled awkwardly at the covered body. The slowly closed the heavy wooden door to the room.

"Do you always talk to the stiffs?" one of the men asked.

"They are still people," Julia stated, matter-of-factually. The man shrugged and rolled his eyes as he and his partner left the room. "Well, they are," she called after them, with a disapproving tone. She then huffed as she gathered her medical bag and left the morgue.

Feeling somewhat vindicated having stood up for those who couldn't speak for themselves, Julia lifted her head high and headed to Toronto General Hospital, where she was to meet a colleague about a patient they had, something her colleague suggested that she'd be quite interested in having a look at.


	3. Chapter 3

Murdoch and Brackenreid waited outside the office at the university. A lamenting look came over the Inspector's face, "I suppose we should have contacted Mrs. Best," he spoke.

Murdoch shrugged, "We'll see her soon. Our direction of investigation hasn't led to her yet," he stated.

Brackenreid drew his lips tight, "That's not what I meant!" he exclaimed.

"Sir?"

"I meant as a grieving widow," the Inspector stated.

"Oh, my, yes!" Murdoch almost seemed embarrassed at the over sight. Just then a man opened the office door, "May I help you?" he asked in a rather formal tone.

"We're hoping you can," Brackenreid said as he showed the man his badge.

"You're here about the theft?" the man questioned.

"In part," Murdoch stated. "When was Councillor Best last here. I understand he was on an antiquities committee," the Detective continued.

"I'm not here all the time, so you'll have to ask Dean David Miller," the man stepped back into the door and directed the two policemen to the man at the end of the large room; it was an office for more than one, it appeared. Both Murdoch and Brackenreid acknowledged with a sharp nod before they too entered the room. Their foot steps couldn't be masked; they obviously wouldn't be able to sneak up on everyone. The two men glanced at each other as they made faces as they tried to walk lighter. To anyone who might have been watching, it looked like a scene from a vaudeville act.

Dean Miller looked up from his book, "May I help you?" he asked as Murdoch and Brackenreid approached the table.

Murdoch flashed his badge, "We'd like to talk to you about Councillor Best," he stated.

"What of him?" Miller enquired.

"When was he last here?" Brackenreid jumped right in with the question.

"Let's see," Miller leaned back in his chair. He was an older man. As he thought he stroked his grey goatee. It seemed to be a habit of his. "Two days ago," Miller finally gave an answer. "Yes," he then leaned forward, "we had an antiquities meeting about a theft," he stated.

"The theft was out of our jurisdiction. Did another station house look into it?" Brackenreid asked.

"The police were here, but I can't say they did very much," Miller said as he stood.

"What was the nature of the theft?" Murdoch was curious to know what was taken.

"There were a few items stolen from the University's historical collection," Miller handed the Detective a sheet of paper. "This is an itemized list," he added.

"I assume that these objects are worth a lot of money," Murdoch said as his eyes scanned the page.

"Some are worth more than money," Miller corrected him, "they carry great historic value," he added.

"I see," Murdoch stated as he handed the paper to his boss. Brackenreid looked at the list, "A lead bullet?" he looked up at Miller.

"It was the first bullet fired in York, now Toronto in the War of 1812," Miller stated with pride.

Brackenreid made a face, thinking Miller was off his rocker. "Sure," he stuffed the page back at Murdoch.

"What was Councillor Best's reaction to the theft?" Murdoch looked from his boss to the Dean.

"Like all of us, he was quite concerned. Clearly it was an inside job, but as I said, the police have yet to produce any evidence of who or when this happened. Not to mention the location of these," Miller flicked the edge of the page in Murdoch's hand, with this fingers.

"May I keep this?" the Detective held up the page.

"Yes, and I hope that you are better than those other ones," Miller said with his nose slightly in the air.

"Station House No. 4 will solve your theft," Brackenreid said with pride.

"We will have to work with the station house that first got the case," Murdoch reminded his boss, who seemed annoyed by the idea. "Let's see what Julia had found out," Murdoch changed the conversation. "Yes. Let's," Brackenreid even sounded annoyed at the thought of working with another station house, and clearly one that seemed incompetent. "Thank you for your time," Murdoch smiled slightly as he touched the brim of his hat as he excused himself from the Dean.

"We'll be in touch," Brackenreid stated as he followed the Detective to the door.

Miller sat down again and watched as the two men left, "I bet they won't find a damn thing, either," he stated before he returned his attention to the book on the desk.

Constables George Crabtree and Henry Higgins were sitting in the bullpen, comparing they few notes they had on the Councillor Best case, "Perhaps he was struck by lightening," Higgins offered.

"I would think Doctor Ogden would have noticed something like that," Crabtree replied.

Henry frowned, "How can someone just up and die with not signs of what it was?" he asked.

"Must have been something internal, I suppose," George shrugged. He then spotted a well dressed older woman talking to the desk sergeant; she looked quite animated and worried. The desk sergeant appeared to be perplexed as he pointed toward the bullpen. The older women turned and looked at Crabtree, "Looks like we might have a visitor," the Constable announced as he watched the woman walk toward him. Both constables stood, "May we help you ma'am?" Crabtree asked.

"My husband's missing!" she poke, almost in hysterics.

"Oh?" Crabtree glanced at Higgins. "What's your husband's name?" he then questioned.

"Maxwell Best. He's a town counsellor," the woman held he head high as if asking such a question wasn't necessary and that everyone should know her and her husband.

"Oh," Crabtree swallowed. He then did a quick look over to Murdoch's office and noticed that the Detective wasn't there. Neither was the Inspector in his office. "Perhaps you should wait to talk to Detective Murdoch," Crabtree motioned with a swoop of his right hand for the woman to enter the Detective's office and take a seat.

"Where is the Detective?" Mrs. Best asked.

"He should be along shortly," Crabtree was quick to answer, hoping what he had just said was true. Mrs. Best did not look amused. The constable backed out of the office and went back to work leaving Mrs. Best on her own.

Murdoch and Brackenreid entered the morgue and found Julia standing in the middle of the room with a most perplexed look on her face. "Julia, have have you?" Murdoch asked. "Doctor," Brackenreid greeted her.

"I have nothing, William," he looked up to her husband.

"Nothing?" Murdoch glanced at this boss.

"Nothing. Not even a body!" Ogden exclaimed.

"Pardon?" Brackenreid asked.

"You heard me," Julia stated. "Look," she opened the heavy wooden door to the cooler. There it was; an empty gurney with a sheet tossed aside and no Maxwell Best in sight. Murdoch and Brackenreid stood staring at it, gobsmacked.

"Julia?" Murdoch's brown eyes locked on to his wife's blue eyes. "Honestly, I don't know! There was no sign of forced entry," Ogden explained.

"Bloody hell," the Inspector sputtered as he took a further look into the cooler, poking at the crumple sheet on the gurney with his walking stick. "A dead man just can't get up and walk away," he further stated as he turned on his heels and looked at the doctor and detective. They both shrugged at the same time. "It appears that Mister Best did just that, Sir," the Detective sheepishly said as he slowly looked over to his wife.

Clearly Julia was at a loss for words. Slowly she moved to the gurney, "Perhaps he wasn't dead after all," he looked over to the two policemen.

"I just knew this wasn't going to be an easy case," Brackenreid fumed. "Bullocks," was all he could say.


	4. Chapter 4

Old man Simpson slowly walked to his barn and stopped as he noticed the entry door was slightly ajar. The grizzled farmer balled up his hands and approached the barn, "Who's in there?" he shouted. Only the pigeons heard him as the lifted to the sky. Still not satisfied that one one was in the barn, he grabbed hold of the rake near the door, before he entered, "I said, who's in here?" he shouted again. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness within the large wooden structure, so he proceeded with caution, holding the rake like a baseball bat.

Simpson moved slowly along the stalls, when he saw the tan coloured sack on the floor. He thought nothing of it at the time, instead he was looking around the interior of the barn. Not paying much attention to where he stepped, the next thing he came upon was the shrunken head. His foot hit it as he walked, causing to to bounce across the wooden floor like a coconut. He stopped and paused, looking at the object, squinting to see what it was.

Still being cautious, Simpson moved closer to the object, before he swooped down and picked it up. The long black hair covered the tiny face with sewn-shut eyes and mouth. "What the hell is this?" he asked aloud as he flicked his wrist to move the long hair. There staring back at his was the shrunken head! "GAAAAAAAA!" Simpson shouted as he flung the head back to the floor and hastily made his way out of the building, as quickly as his old legs wound move.

Once back to the farm house, he wrapped his right arm around the veranda post, as he panted, trying to catch his breath. He was still uncertain if anyone was in the barn, and after seeing what he did, he didn't care either. His mind raced for what to do, but all he could focus on for the moment was the tiny tanned face. Perhaps, he thought he should inform the police, before someone else found the head and accused him of doing it to someone. That meant a trip to the constabulary, for he had no telephone.

Stumped about the missing body, Murdoch and Brackenreid made their way back to Station House No. 4 to resume what investigation they could with the list of missing artifacts and the swatch of cloth that was found clenched in Maxwell Best's hand.

"I don't believe this," the Inspector grumbled as they walked up the steps into the station house. "I've never seen a dead man go missing," he said as he shook his head in disbelief.

"It is a puzzlement for sure," Murdoch admitted. Even with his calculating mind, he had no answers or theories as to how Maxwell Best went missing. "I'm sure there's a reasonable answer," he added as they passed by the desk sergeant on their way to their respective offices.

Constable George Crabtree caught sight of the two men out of the corner of his eye, and was quick to his feet to cut them off before they got too much further. He was thankful that Mrs. Best remained seated, with her back to the door to in the Detective's office. Clearly George was agitated about something. "What is it George?" Murdoch asked, noticing the Constable's state.

George looked at the Inspector and then the Detective, then with a quick glance over his shoulder to Murdoch's office before he looked back at the Detective. George wet his lips, "It's Mrs. Best. She's come here to report her husband, Councillor Maxwell Best, missing," Crabtree reported.

Brackenreid's eyes widened, "Can this day get any worse?" he asked to no one in particular.

"Let's hope not," Murdoch lamented. The detective straightened his back and slowly walked to his office to meet with Mrs. Best. The Inspector followed along. The both walked like condemned men. Murdoch entered his office and removed his hat, placing on the rack just inside the office door, "Mrs. Best?" he asked extending his hand to the woman seated in the chair in front of his desk.

"Detective?" she gently shook his hand.

"Yes, ma'am. William Murdoch. This is Inspector Brackenreid," the Detective introduced his boss. Brackenreid smiled, "Madam," he said.

Mrs. Best looked somewhat confused, "Why is the Inspector here? Nothing is wrong, is there?"

Murdoch felt like his shirt collar just tightened and gave a quick glance to his boss. Brackenreid wore a somewhat panicked look on his face.

Murdoch sat down on the corner of his desk, "Constable Crabtree said that your husband is missing," he said in a caring tone.

"Yes! He never came home last night, and he's never done that before. Of course I am quite worried," Mrs. Best exclaimed.

"Did your husband have any meetings?" the Inspector asked.

"He said something of one, but that was early in the evening. He should have been home before nine, I should think," Mrs. Best sternly answered.

"Has your husband ever had any medical occurrences?" Murdoch then asked.

"What ever do you mean? Where is Maxwell?" Mrs. Best stood up, glaring at the two men. Being a gentleman, Murdoch stood up from the corner of his desk.

"We honestly don't know," Murdoch stated.

"Well you will find him, won't you?" Mrs. Best's eyes darted between the two men.

"We will, Madame," Brackenreid promised.

Mrs. Best said nothing more. She curtly turned on her heels and left the office, "Is everyone around here incompetent?" she asked aloud. Brackenreid's eyebrows lifted, "If our work wasn't cut out for us before, it sure as bloody hell is now," he said watching the woman leave the station. She was in such a dither, she almost walked into farmer Simpson as he made his way into the station. As Mrs. Best bowled past him, he shook his head at the woman with her nose in the air.

Simpson stopped at the desk, "I need to talk to a policeman," he gruffly stated.

The desk sergeant pointed to the bullpen, again.

Again, Crabtree spotted the visitor. "Incoming," he reported aloud. Both Murdoch and Brackenreid watched on from the office. Clearly the old farmer was worked up about something. He was describing what he found in his barn to Crabtree and Higgins. The two Constable kept exchanging glances; that was enough to pique Murdoch's interest. "What's going on?" he asked as h left his office, joining the two Constables. Brackenreid followed him.

"Farmer Simpson said he found something unusual in his barn this morning," Crabtree explained.

"Oh?" Murdoch said as he looked at the farmer. "What was it?"

"I rightly don't know," Simpson explained.

"Well, then how do you know it's unusual?" Brackenreid quipped.

"Because it looked like a little human head, but it was all shrived up and has long hair," the framer stated. "It was ghastly looking for sure," he added.

Brackenreid made a face, "A shrived human head? What have you been drinking?" the Inspector asked.

Murdoch thought for a moment and pulled the paper from his breast pocket that he got from the dean at the university. He quickly unfurled it and scanned the list of missing items. He slowly looked up at his boss and then to the other men in the room, "I do believe it's known as a shrunken head, Sir," he said flatly as he showed the list to everyone. Crabtree's mouth dropped open in awe.


	5. Chapter 5

Murdoch, Brackenreid, Crabtree, and farmer Simpson stood in the barn, staring down at the shrunken head that lay on the dusty straw floor. "What do you make of it, Murdoch?" the Inspector asked as he looked down at the object with some caution as he'd never seen anything like it before in his life.

Murdoch crouched down and motioned Crabtree to join him, "George, this seems like something you would find interesting and may know something about. What do you know about shrunken heads?" the detective asked. Anyone that knew the constable could see him almost salivating over the prospect of having the knowledge of such things.

"Genuine shrunken heads usually come from South America, where rival tribes of indigenous people who would kill one another and shrink the human head and display them are a show of force and not embroil with them. These tribes have hardly had anyone study them because they are so far into the rain forest," the Constable stated.

"Genuine? You mean there could be fake ones, Crabtree?" the Inspector asked.

"Certainly, Sir. I bet one on the black market could fetch a pretty penny," Crabtree replied.

"Well, it that one real or not?" the Inspector quickly asked.

Crabtree slowly reached out to pick it up. He made a face as his hand touched it, and it wasn't the texture that he expected, so he put it back down. "Pick it up, Crabtree," the Inspector ordered as he poke him in the shoulder with his walking stick.

"It like it will feels horrible, Sir," George responded, looking up at the Inspector.

Brackenreid huffed, "Are you a man or a mouse?"

Murdoch pursed his lips and decided to intervene by using his handkerchief to pick up the little head. Even with the cloth, the texture was off-putting. "We'll have to get Julia," he paused, "er, Doctor Ogden, take a look at this," he said looking up at the farmer, who was watching on with great interest.

"Just take it away," Simpson almost ordered the men to remove it, waving his right hand.

"Certainly Mister Simpson," Murdoch said as he stood up. "You are certain you don't know how this found it's way into your barn," he studied the farmer's face.

"Not a clue," Simpson replied.

Whilst George was crouching, he spotted the sack just behind the farmer. He slowly stood and walked to the heap of cloth, "Sirs?" he looked down at it. "Doesn't that look like the same material we found on the councillor's body?" he questioned as he lifted the sack with his pencil.

"It sure does, George," Murdoch stated as he quickly handed the wrapped head to the Inspector, who was now more focused on the sack, to even notice what the Detective had done. Murdoch moved next to the Constable, "Let's get this back to Station House No. 4 for further examination," he said.

"I suppose we should wrap it in something," Crabtree suggested.

"Agreed," Murdoch reached for his handkerchief and then realized it was already in use. He looked over to the Inspector who was still looking at the sack hanging off the end of Crabtree's pencil. Murdoch batted his eyes in slight bemusement, "Sir, do you have a spare handkerchief?" he then asked.

"Yes, yes, Murdoch," Brackenreid stated then looked down to his hand, "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, almost throwing the shrunken head to the floor. He then looked at the Detective with a scowl, "Not funny," he huffed. Murdoch's left eyebrow lift, realizing what he'd done and a slight smirk formed on his lips. The Detective held out his hands and received the wrapped head. The Inspector didn't take his eyes off Murdoch as he reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief, "Crabtree, use this," he tossed the hanky over to the Constable. George grabbed the cloth out of the air and quickly rolled the sack up for safe keeping.

"I guess we have all we need,' Murdoch announced. "Should we have further questions," he looked at the farmer.

"I'm not going anywhere. Unless another one of those things shows up!" Simpson gruffly pointed to the shrunken head.

"Let's hope that doesn't happen," the Detective smiled and bid the farmer ado. Brackenreid and Crabtree followed close behind, leaving Simpson standing alone in his barn still wondering where the little head came from. The old farmer scratched his whiskered cheek before he turned and left the barn for a stiff drink at his house.

Across town, Maxwell Best had just changed out of his damp clothing and into a new suit. He realized that he still had time for his three o'clock meeting with R.W. He was rather eager, and a slight smile curled his lips. He even dobbed on some cologne on either side of his neck and cheeks. With a slight adjustment of his cravat he was ready. He quickly checked his pocket watch smiled in satisfaction as he walked down the stairs of his spacious house.

He scooped up his derby and placed it on his head as he opened the door and left the house. No sooner had he turned the corner on the block, Mrs. Best arrived home. She sniffed the air, noting the fragrance that lingered outside the doorway. "Maxwell?" she called out as she entered her home. The cologne was even stronger inside, "Maxwell?" she repeated.

With a huff, Mrs. Best climbed the stairs and looked around the upper storey, when she spotted the soiled clothing draped over the back of the chair in the master bedroom. Perhaps he was in the bath, "Maxwell?" she called out again, this time opening the door into the empty room. Clearly he had gotten cleaned up. She firmly placed her hands on her hips and growled, "Where are you?" There was no answer. "Well, perhaps you're eating. After all you didn't come home last night," she said as she left the room to go down to the kitchen. It too was empty. Truly puzzled, she thought she should notify the police at Station House No.4.

Constable Henry Higgins tried to ignore the telephone, but the other constables were staring at him as it continued to ring. Finally he dropped his pencil to the blotter and picked up the candlestick phone, "Police Station House No. 4," he spoke into the daffodil-shaped mouth piece. He held the receiver away from his ear, as Mrs. Best bellowed into the phone on her end, "Well that is really good news," Higgins looked at the other men and shrugged as he continued to listen. "I will indeed, ma'am," he nodded.

Higgins was still on the phone when Murdoch, Crabtree and Brackenreid returned to the station. All three men watched the Constable as he kept pulling the receiver from his ear, "It's Mrs. Best," he held the phone out hoping someone would take it from him.

Murdoch flexed his jowl, cast a glance to his boss and took the telephone. After a few seconds of trying to interrupt and get Mrs. Best attention, he was finally successful, "I see," he said with interest. "Yes, Ma'am," he finally said as he hung up and placed the phone down on the desk.

"What is it Murdoch?" Brackenreid asked.

"It would seem that Maxwell Best is alive and somewhere in Toronto," the Detective informed his boss.

"But how?!" Brackenreid stammered. "He was dead!"

"Or was he?" Murdoch replied with an arched eyebrow. Brackenreid, Crabtree and Higgins exchanged looks.


	6. Chapter 6

Detective Murdoch and Inspector Brackenreid took a handsome across town to see Councillor Best's wife. Murdoch had tasked George Crabtree with finding anything out about the shrunken head and sack it came in, before he left the station house with his boss.

"I suppose we should have visited Mrs. Best sooner," the Inspector stated nervously.

"I agree that it would have been prudent," Murdoch commented. "I suppose we just got wrapped up in the discovery and disappearance of Councillor Best. It won't happen again," he glanced at his boss who sat next to him in the carriage.

"We all make mistakes, Murdoch. I'm just glad that you're on this case," Brackenreid stated.

"Thank you, Sir," Murdoch smiled slightly as the coach began to slow down. "This would appear to be our stop," he noted.

"Crikey! Look at the size of that house," Brackenreid exclaimed, his mouth almost dropping open in awe as he gazed through the carriage window at the two story red brick house. The whole building had intricate white gingerbread details along the eves. Even the shutters had decorative elements.

"It certainly is a big one," Murdoch agreed as he opened the door and stepped out of the coach. "But remember, it's a family that makes a home, not the size," he added.

Brackenreid thought about his Detective's comment as he also exited the coach, "You know Murdoch, you are right," he stated feeling a bit better about his own home. William seemed satisfied with his boss' comment as the two walked to the door. "I bet he has servants," Brackenreid whispered as they walked up the steps on the large veranda.

"I suppose we'll soon find out," Murdoch looked skeptically at his boss as he lifted the lion-head door knocker and struck it several times on the metal plate on the door. Brackenreid was busy looking around the veranda and front yard.

A few minutes passed and finally there was some action at the door. Brackenreid turned on his heels, "Slow servants at that," he leaned toward the Detective as he watched the door. Again the Inspector's mouth dropped open as it was Mrs. Best that opened the door. The Inspector shot a glance over to Murdoch, but the Detective shrugged, "It was your hypothesis, Sir," he shrugged.

Brackenreid tried to save face and tipped his hat, "Mrs. Best," he smiled awkwardly.

"It's about time you came around," Mrs. Best snorted as she stepped aside allowing the two men into the house. They both removed their hats; holding them in their hands.

"Thank you for calling the police station Mrs. Best. It's imperative that we see your husband's suit. You did say he had taken a bath, did you not?" William asked.

"Yes," Mrs. Best said curtly. "The room is up the stairs and to the left," she motioned with her hand toward the massive staircase behind the tow policemen. Brackenreid and Murdoch turned, and again the Inspector was struck with awe as he stared at the handsome carved newel posts; one of a soldier and one of a woman. Perhaps it was the Bests in younger years, Brackenreid thought. Murdoch was slightly amused by his boss' reaction to the house as they both climbed the stairs, following Mrs. Best to the room where Maxwell had changed his clothing. The soiled damp suit was draped over the back of the chair. "Sir," Murdoch pointed out the mud on the back of the coat, "This is they suit he had on," he spoke calmly.

"You knew he was wearing that suit?" Mrs. Best stepped forward questioning the men.

"Yes Ma'am," the Detective answered. "We found your husband in a alley near the old saddle company," he states.

"What on earth was he doing there?" Mrs. Best was quick to ask.

Murdoch and Brackenreid exchanged looks. "Madam, has your husband ever fainted before?" Brackenreid then questioned.

Mrs. Best was clearly puzzled by the question, "I don't know what you mean," she finally said.

Murdoch stepped toward the older woman, "We received a call that your husband was found unconscious in the alley. When we attended the site, it would appear that he was deceased," the Detective explained.

"Maxwell is dead?" Mrs. Best gasped, holding her hands over her mouth. Brackenreid moved another chair over for her to sit upon, which she did. "Oh my. What happened?"

"This is where the story gets a bit strange," Murdoch continued. "As usual, we took him to the morgue for examination, but it appears that he had got up and left on his own ability some time later," he watched the older woman.

"I don't understand," Mrs. Best stared at the crumpled suit.

"That makes three of us," Brackenreid quipped. Murdoch made a face at his boss, who shrugged. Clearly he was thinking "well, it's true" but didn't say it. Brackenreid made a face back at the Detective.

"So where is Maxwell now?" Mrs. Best quickly asked.

"That's what we'd like to find out," Murdoch started. "We went to his office earlier and found an entry into his agenda book for a meeting he was having today at three o'clock with someone with the initials R.W." the Detective stated. "Would you happen to know who this is, and where?"

Mrs. Best thought for a moment, "I wouldn't have a clue. Maxwell rarely discusses his work with me, unless it involves the Temperance League," she stated.

Brackenreid turned away from the woman and rolled his eyes.

"What ever the meeting is about, must be an important one," Mrs. Best then said.

"How so?" Murdoch asked.

"Maxwell used his expensive cologne. I could smell it in the air when I came home," Mrs. Best pointed out as she stood and walked over to the bureau and picked up the small decorative crystal bottle, handing it to the Detective. Murdoch ran it under his nose and took a small sniff. It wasn't one that he would personally enjoy wearing, but to each his own. "Can we hold on to this?" he asked holding the little bottle out slightly.

"Whatever for?" Mrs. Best asked.

"I'd like to get fingermarks off this," Murdoch answered.

"Is Maxwell in some time of trouble?" Mrs. Best then asked, folding her arms across her chest. She was feeling that she'd had enough of the police for one day.

"That's what we're trying to find out, Madame," Brackenreid spoke up. "But first we need to collect as much information and evidence that will help us find him," he added.

Mrs. Best walked to the door, "Take the bottle and leave," she stated gruffly.

"I'll have a constable bring back the bottle when we're through," Murdoch said as he carefully wrapped the little bottle in a handkerchief and placed it in his suit coat pocket. The Inspector was the first out the door into the hall, quickly followed by the Detective. The two men made their way down the stairs to the front door. "This hasn't gotten us anywhere," Brackenreid said flatly.

Murdoch sighed as he opened the door and left the house, "Let's hope George has found something more about the shrunken head and that sack," he glanced at his boss. Brackenreid pulled his gold pocket watch from his waistcoat, and popped it open. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "I just knew this wasn't going to be a easy day," he said stuffing the watch back in the pocket. "Well, let's see what Crabtree's found," the Inspector snorted.

"Yes, let's," Murdoch agreed as he hailed a carriage.


	7. Chapter 7

Constable George Crabtree was with Doctor Julia Ogden and Miss James in the morgue. All three were still mystified about the whereabouts of their latest guest, and it seemed to be the topic of idol conversation as they studied the shrunken head.

"Who would do such a thing?" Miss James then asked as she stared down at the hairy mass on the examination table.

"Some tribes in South America do this as a ritual or a trophy, depending on the need," Crabtree spoke up. "I looked it up in the encyclopedia Britannica," he proudly added. Crabtree enjoyed the weird and paranormal, often testing Murdoch and Brackenreid's mettle on any of the subjects.

"You seem to be quite knowledgeable, Constable," Miss James stated, looking up at the Constable.

"Well, thank you Miss James," George blushed slightly. "I like to learn new things and given cases like this, I can immerse myself in research. Who knows, one day I might write another book," he smiled broadly.

"I suppose you know how it's done," Julia quipped slightly sarcastically.

"As a matter of fact, I do. It's all a bit gruesome," the Constable stated wondering if the women were up to hearing all about it.

"Oh?" Julia baited the policeman.

"Honest it is," Crabtree responded, flashing the palm of his right hand that was nested on his chin.

"Do tell," Julia insisted.

"I warn you," Crabtree said in slight protest.

"We're both coroners. How bad could it be?" Julia shrugged.

"That's a very valid point, Doctor," the Constable poked his right index finger in the air as he moved closer to the examination table.

"Well?" Julia urged George to tell them about the shrunken heads of South America.

"Well, okay then," Crabtree began. "After the deed was done," he motioned with his right hand across his throat indicating decapitation, "The tribal people would peel off the flesh, turning it inside out," be continued. Miss James was making a face, but she listened with interest. "and they'd use a tool to scrape away any remaining flesh so only the skin is left, they would do that to the bone too, I suppose," he paused in thought before he started up again. They would then sew up the eyes," he added.

"Why would they do that? Why wouldn't they shrink it all at the same time?" Julia asked.

"Apparently they stripped the flesh off so that the skull could shrink at a different rate. I assume this process took quite some time to do, having not seen it done myself," the Constable noted.

"Well, it's all very interesting," Julia stated as she rolled the head over on the table. "It's still rather ghastly, however," she stated.

"Well, the process doesn't stop there," Crabtree exclaimed.

Both Ogden and James exchanged looks. "Oh?" Julia cautiously asked.

"Oh no, you see," George said, "it has to be put back together. After the skull was boiled for however long, the shrivelled skin would be put back over the bone, with pegs through the lips before it was hung over a fire to dry," he noted. "I'm not sure how long that took either," he sighed.

"Well, that is very interesting and disturbing," Julia stated.

"They were used as trophies, if you will," Crabtree concluded just as Murdoch and Brackenreid entered the room of the morgue. The Constable stopped and turned on his heels.

"What have you George?" Murdoch quickly asked.

George glanced back at the ladies for help, "A real to goodness shrunken head, Sirs," he then looked at his two bosses.

"Well that's good to know George, but is it the one from the University?" the Detective asked.

"I'd say it is," Julia stated as she used a metal probe to lift the hair at the back. "This is their acquisition number, if I'm correct," he pointed to the inked number on the lower part of the skull. "Special numbers are adhered to objects in museum and galleries to help associated them with their donor or track them in the storage," she noted. "I would wager that the University uses similar practices."

"Interesting," Murdoch said. "Anything else?" he then asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes, Sirs. The sack found in the barn at Mr. Simpson's farm was the one that the head was in, and," George stated as he moved down the table to the burlap bag, "the piece that Councillor Best had on his person matches," he pointed out the area that had been ripped out, compared to the piece Best had in his hand. "Both pieces have hair from that," he then pointed to the shrunken head. He looked up at his two bosses.

"Why would Councillor Best have a shrunken head in his possession? Especially the the one from the University? And what was he doing in the alley at night?" Brackenreid as quick to ask. The room was silent.

"Maybe he found it and realized what it was and was taking it back," Crabtree finally offered as he picked up the shrunken head.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps he was taking it somewhere," Murdoch looked at his boss.

"Bloody hell! There's more questions now than there were before," Brackenreid huffed. "I'm getting a drink and think about this," he gruffly turned on his heels and left the morgue.

"It Inspector's right," Julia said. "We do have more questions than answers right now," he took the head from Crabtree's hand and placed it back down on the table.

"Maybe this will shed some light on the matter," the Detective said as he carefully pulled the small bottle from his pocket and handed it gingerly to George. "See if you an gets some fingermarks off this," he stated.

"Certainly Sir," George took the small bottle, cupping it in his hands. Noting what it was, he took the opportunity to take a sniff, which made his nose itch on the inside. He also made a sour face, "Who would wear this?" he asked.

"I wondered the same thing," Murdoch replied. "Let's me know what you find," he added as he watched the Constable walk away, using his free hand to wave away the smell of cologne. His attention came back to Julia, "Any ideas about Councillor Best?" he asked with a very puzzled look on his face.

Julia shook her head no, "Unless he had an extremely low heart rate, he was dead," she shrugged.

"'Was' is the operative word. Now where is he?" Murdoch asked aloud, arching his left eyebrow.

"There has to be a logical explanation to all this," Julia stated. "But, it looks like it's going to be hard to find," she continued as she picked up the head, studying it further. "It's a mystery within a mystery."

"Indeed," the Detective sighed. "I'll be back later," he said as he dismissed himself from the room to rejoin his boss back at Station House No. 4.

Julia and Miss James remained where they stood. "Do you think we'll ever find the answers?" Miss James asked.

"If there's anyone in this city that will find the answers, it will be Detective Murdoch," Julia stated.


	8. Chapter 8

Across town, Maxwell Best, straightened his tie and adjusted his waistcoat, before he knocked on the door to room 57. He hesitated slightly and wrung his hands together at the anticipation of seeing the woman inside, again. He wet his lips before he gently knocked on the door.

He looked up and down the hall of the hotel, and was satisfied that he was lone person there, and that no prying eyes were watched. He listened to the shuffling in the room, before the sound of the lock being unlocked at the door. Slowly the door opened and there stood Raquel Wilkins – a right femme fatale; Best swallowed deeply as she guided him into the room, closing the door behind them.

She was wearing a black corset, pantaloons and a sheer flowing dressing gown. Her hair was done up in quite the coiffure. And her waiting lips were painted ruby red. A remarkable sight, indeed. Wilkins helped Maxwell with his suit coat, before she offered him a glass of brandy. Having only met her once before, Best was still nervous, but looked forward to the attention she gave, which was lacking at home. It was like he was young again when he looked at her.

The room was a glow with the gas lamps, and the fact that it was nearing dusk out side, although there was still several hours of daylight left in the day. The room felt quite romantic, in fact. Best's hand shook slightly as he sipped from the crystal glass, while watching Raquel as she poured her own drink. She then moved across the room, and lowered herself onto the settee next to the councillor. "It's nice to see you again," she cooed.

Again Maxwell swallowed, "Likewise," he squeaked out. Wilkins' lips curved seductively as she sipped slowly on her drink.

"Did you bring it?" Wilkins then asked.

Best stopped drinking. Slowly he set his glass down, "I could only bring half of it," he nervously stated.

"I see," Wilkins said coldly. "Then you will only get half," she replied.

Best's shoulders sagged, "I was robbed before I could sell what I was going to sell," he tried to plea. "I'll sell something else and get the rest," he smiled, hoping to persuade the woman.

"How can I trust you?" Raquel asked over her glass.

"I'll double the amount," Best offered enthusiastically.

"Hummm," Wilkins pondered the idea, "It will have be delivered tomorrow then," she said with slight doubt that the councillor would come through on his deal.

"Tomorrow?" Best questioned. "I don't think I can turn it around that fast," he then stated.

Wilkins slowly stood up and walked across the room, moving in a very seductive manner. Best watched her every move. He stopped at the mantel, "The following day, and no more, or nothing tonight," she then said as she looked over her shoulder to the councillor. Best nodded in approval.

Wilkins then brought her hand up and motioned Best to follow her into the bedroom, using her index finger. It was like there was some magical power to the finger, as Best slowly rose from this seat and almost floated across the room, his eyes wide with wonder and excitement. They entered the room, and he used her toe to nudge the door closed behind them.

It was late in the day when Inspector Brackenreid finally got to sit down and read the newspaper, while he sipped on a glass of scotch. His eyes spotted an advertisement at the bottom right corner of the page, "Wanted, pioneer implements, old coins, china, natural history subjects, maps and documents. Will pay top dollar. See proprietor Robert Wilson, Jarvis Street," he read aloud. Slowly he removed his spectacles and stood up, still holding the newspaper in his hand. He set his glass down and walked through the bullpen and entered the Detective's office, "Murdoch, what were the initials in Best's agenda book?" he asked William.

"R.W. Why?" Murdoch looked up at this boss.

Brackenreid placed the newspaper down in front of the Detective and poked his left index finger at the ad he'd just read. Murdoch read it and looked up at his boss, "Very good Sir!" he exclaimed, with his eyebrows arching.

Brackenreid seemed quite pleased with the comment as he smiled from ear to ear, almost smug-like. "It appears we finally have a lead in our case," he added.

"Indeed Sir," Murdoch said as he stood up, and picked up the newspaper, reading it again. He then checked his breast pocket for the list that the dean had given him. "Let's pay Mister Wilson a visit, shall we?" he walked to the coat rack and gather his hat. Brackenreid scooted across the way to retrieve his hat, coat and walking stick. He quickly joined the Detective as they strolled out of Station House No. 4.

As the two policemen sat in the back of the handsome, Brackenreid pondered, "It would be just great is this was the missing piece of the puzzle," he commented aloud.

"Indeed it would be," Murdoch agreed as the coach rolled to a stop after a few minute ride. "There's the shop over there," he pointed through the window.

"Let's see what Mister Wilson has to say for himself," Brackenreid growled as he opened the carriage door and stepped down to the sidewalk. Murdoch was right behind him, and paid the driver. The two policemen adjusted their coats before they strolled over to Wilson's pawn shop. They stood looking through the large shop window, "Looks to me like he'd collect anything," Brackenreid snorted, "including shrunken heads," he added.

"Indeed it does, but we can't jump to conclusions," Murdoch warned to Brackenreid's slight displeasure – he just wanted the case to be finished.

Both men entered the little shop and a little bell above the door announced their arrival. The shop was crowded with just about everything one could think of under the sun. The room held a heady funk smell from the old paper and wooden objects. There was likely a good dose of mould in the room too. Brackenreid held back a sneeze as long as he could, but out it came, "Bloody hell," he muttered as he quickly wiped his nose with his handkerchief. The noise brought shopkeeper, Robert Wilson, out of the back room; apparently he hadn't heard the little bell. "Can I help you find something, gentlemen?" the old man spoke.

"We're very much hoping so, Mr. Wilson?," Murdoch approached showing his badge. Brackenreid did the same. "I'm Detective Murdoch and this is Inspector Brackenreid from Station House No. 4."

Wilson nodded at the names, but then quickly asked, "I'm in no trouble, am I?" the old man's voice quivered.

"That all depends if you have ever bought any of these antiquities from Councillor Maxwell Best lately," William stated as he handed the list to Wilson. Brackenreid watched the man with deep interest. He just wanted to go home and put his feet up.

Wilson took the list and scanned down the page of missing university artifacts, "I can't say I have seen any of these, nor have I seen Councillor Best in here. You're free to look around. Maybe someone else brought them in," he shrugged. Murdoch and Brackenreid exchanged glances of disappointment. "If you think any of these antiquities are brought in to your shop, please call me," Murdoch requested. Wilson nodded and scribbled the Detective's name down on a piece of paper.

"Thank you for your time," Murdoch spoke and turned to the door. The Inspector was right on his heels, "Bloody hell," he growled. "I thought for sure R.W. Was him," he then sighed.

"Me too, Sir. Me too," Murdoch drew a deep breath through his nose as he stepped out on to the sidewalk. They both knew they were no further ahead in the case. It make matters worse for the two men, the skies opened up and it began to pour rain. "Bullocks!" Brackenreid shouted as they scrambled to a dry place.


	9. Chapter 9

With his collar unbuttoned, Maxwell Best left the hotel room, and leaned against the hall wall, sweat pouring down his brow. Everything was a blur to be sure, but he felt euphoric after the hour he had just spent with Raquel Wilkins. He stood in the hallway for a moment as he fumbled with this collar. He then pulled on his suit coat and hat and walked down the hall to the staircase at the end. He was whistling slightly and felt like he was in his twenties again. He even had swagger in his walk. Nothing was going to ruin his mood, that was until he got home and faced his wife. He tried not to think of it at the present, instead he focused on his current mood, and plotted what to take next to make good his promise to Wilkins.

Best stopped and looked at his reflection in the hotel door window, and smoothed out his ruffled greying hair, and straightened his tie. He noticed a little bit of lipstick on his left cheek and quickly wiped it away. His next stop would be home, after all it was dinner time, and surely the missus would be looking for him by now.

Maxwell leisurely strolled home and paused at the end of the walkway that led to the veranda. Suddenly his euphoric mood was gone, and he was back to reality. His shoulders sagged slightly and he sighed. Slowly he walked along the cobble walk and climbed the stairs, feeling he true age coming back with each step.

He said nothing as he turned the knob on the door and entered the home. He hung the hat in the coat tree inside the door before he walked to the sitting room and took his place in his upholstered wing-back chair scooping up the newspaper as he did so.

Florence Best entered the room from another doorway, "Well it's about time you came home," she growled. "Where have you been, and why are the police looking for you?" she asked curtly.

Maxwell slowly dropped the newspaper to his lap, "What do you mean, the police are looking for me?" he turned in his chair asking.

Florence seemed even more confused, "They said you were found in a alley near the saddle factory," she blurted out.

Maxwell's expression changed from one of question to one of concern, "How ridiculous," he then said, standing up. "What's for dinner?" he asked changing the subject as he walked toward the dinning room.

"Where were you just now?" Florence asked further.

"I had a meeting," Maxwell replied. "A very important meeting," he stood by his wife's chair waiting for her to sit down. He didn't care anymore about what was prepared. His mind was racing around to try and remember what happened at the old saddle factory. All he could remember was that it was night time and it was raining. Numbly Maxwell took his place at the table; if Florence was talking to him, he wasn't paying any attention to her. Florence finally gave up talking and just ate. She watched her husband and was undecided what to think of him. Perhaps he was injured.

Murdoch and Brackenreid finally made it back to Station House No. 4. Thankfully they weren't completely soaked. The Inspector headed straight to his office and poured himself a drink. Murdoch paused in the bullpen, "What have you George?" he asked the Constable.

Crabtree looked up from his typewriter, "Fingermarks, Sir," he replied. Murdoch wasn't in the mood for jokes, and his face showed it. Quickly George reached over and picked up the fingermark cards on his desk, "There's three. One yours, one of Mrs. Best, and one of Councillor Best," he stated.

"Could you match Councillor Best's to any on the shrunken head?" the Detective asked.

Crabtree shook his head no, "The texture of the shrunken head's skin makes that impossible, Sir," he said.

Sadly it made sense to Murdoch. "This gets us nowhere again," he said.

"Did you have any luck with your lead?" Crabtree asked.

"A dead end right now," Murdoch sighed.

"That's too bad," Crabtree lamented.

"Indeed. I think I"ll be going home now," Murdoch said as he checked his pocket watch. It was going on nine pm.

"Have a good evening, Sir," George replied and resumed his work. The Detective acknowledged his comment before he walked over to the Inspector's office and rapped gently on the door jamb, "I'm heading out no," he informed his boss.

"I won't be far behind you," Brackenreid lifted his partial glass of scotch. Murdoch knew what he meant and smiled as he bid his boss a good evening. It had been a troublesome day from the get go, and frustrating one to boot, with more questions then answers – not a way Murdoch liked to end the day.

The Detective made his way to the hotel where he and Julia seemed to have taken up permanent residence, until he was able to find their dream building lot to build their dream home. So far that wasn't in the cards.

Murdoch unlocked the door and entered their suite. He hung up his hat on the peg inside the door and then removed his suit coat, which he carried with him to the main living quarters of the suite. He draped it over the back of a chair. Julia looked up, "You look exasperated," she commented on her husband's face.

"That's putting it mildly," William sighed as he sat down. "We thought we had a rock solid lead in the Councillor Best case, but it turned out to be a dud," he said as he sat down next to his wife.

"It certainly is a puzzling case," Julia agreed as she sipped on her glass of red wine.

"Indeed. Maybe I'm just missing something," the Detective looked over to Julia.

"Like a body, perhaps?" Julia joked, causing Murdoch to smirk. "Well, there is that," he noted with his right eyebrow lifting. "Perhaps once I've slept on it, something will come to light," he said.

"That's usually the way," Julia smiled. "I'll be busy tomorrow with the hospital, so I hope nothing goes awry," she sipped on he wine.

"That is a pleasant thought," Murdoch smiled. "It would give me time to focus on this most perplexing case.

The Murdochs sat and chatted for a while longer until they decided it was time to get some sleep – they both turned in the night.

Across town, Maxwell Best had turned in much earlier. His wife was was sleeping soundly in her bed, which is what he was waiting for. Very carefully, he pulled back his blankets and sat up, swinging his legs over the side if the bed. He slowly crouched down and retrieved his shoes, which he would put on down stairs. He thought it was clever to have gone to bed fully dressed.

Maxwell made his way out of the bedroom, down the hall and the stairs, where he put on his shoes. He quickly walked through the sitting room and opened a cupboard door retrieving a small flask of brandy. He hustled to the front door where he lifted his hat and over coat off the rack before he unlocked the door and left the house, locking the door behind him. He stuffed the small flask into his coat pocket. The street was quiet, and the almost full moon gave him enough light to travel by; his destination the University of Toronto.

As Best continued his journey he thought of his rendezvous with Raquel and his mind got all foggy in lust. He wet his lips in determination to full fill his promise. And there it was. The University. Maxwell looked around the street before walked to the janitor's door, and knocked.

"Who's there?" the grumpy voice asked from within.

"It's me. Maxwell. I have something for you," Best spoke through the door. The Councillor heard some commotion from within the room and wait for the door to open. He smiled as Harry Parker pulled the door open. Maxwell waved the bottle up in front of him to show the janitor he had what the said he did. Parker wet his lips and opened the door further, and quickly looked around outside; he saw no one. Best was equally cautious and stepped into the little apartment.

"What brings you back?" Parker asked as he took the bottle.

"Nothing in particular," Best smiled. "I like to take care of my constituents, with the town election coming up," he smiled.

"Well this is mighty friendly. Care to share?" Parker asked.

"Oh, no. I have business to attend to later," Best smiled. "You enjoy," he sat down and watched as the janitor poured himself a large drink. It was only a matter of time now, and Best waited patiently.


	10. Chapter 10

It was only a matter of time before the janitor fell asleep in his boozed induced slumber. Confident that he wouldn't rouse, Best carefully lifted the ring of keys off the hook and made his way to the door, that led into the University. The hall was scantly lit with only enough light to see to the other end. Best walked swiftly along until he reached the door that led into the antiquities room. He fumbled the keys in the low light, looking for the right one for the door; it took longer than he wanted, but finally he did get the right key. Quickly the Councillor unlocked the door and stepped into the room.

Maxwell walked along the crowded shelves until he located what he was looking for; the finely carved Egyptian amulets. They were various sizes, but they easily fit into the little cloth sack that Best had brought along. Once he gathered what he felt was enough, he quickly left the room, locking it behind him and then returned the key ring to the hook in the janitor's room. Best took leave of the University premises in hast.

The Councillor tucked the sack under his right arm, and made his way over to the area near the saddle factory, where he would sell his ill-gotten booty to his buyer – at least he had hoped; hie buyer kept sketchy hours and wasn't one Best wanted on his bad side. He then wondered, as he walked along the street what ever happened to the shrunken head. He shrugged it off, thinking that the amulets would fetch a much better price, anyway.

Best reached the alley and began his journey to the other end, again it was still quite dark, with only the moonlight illuminating the area. His eyes had adjusted to the low light level. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he clutched the sack tighter. He paused when he thought he heard someone else walking. Best swallowed hard, and slowly began to walk again. Just as he was about to turn the corner out to the street, an burly man entered the alley in front of him.

"What are you doing in my alley?" the man growled.

Best stood frozen. He couldn't talk. His eyes were wide in fright.

"I asked you a question," the man sneered as he staggered forward.

Best suddenly went limp and dropped to his knees, rolling awkwardly forward; the sack slid out from under his arm. The other man wavered on his feet, "I didn't even tough you," he stated and then burped. The man bent down and picked up the sack hoping it contained a bottle then hustled off leaving Best in a heap in the alley.

It was a bright beautiful morning in Toronto. Murdoch had just gotten in to Station House No. 4 and settled at his desk. Brackenreid sundered over to the Detective's office, "Did that brain of yours come up with anything over night," he jokingly asked.

"Not a thing, Sir," Murdoch replied, almost embarrassed by the thought.

"Well, maybe today's our lucky day," Brackenreid smiled before he took a sip of tea from his cup. No sooner hat the Inspector got the words out of his mouth, Crabtree saddled up to him, at the Detective's doorway, "It would appear that another body was found near the old saddle factory," he stated.

"Bloody hell," Brackenreid cursed and turned back to him office to retrieve his hat, coat and walking stick.

"And from what the unfortunate person who found him, said it looks like Councillor Best," the Constable continued.

Murdoch made a face trying to put the pieces together, and none of it was making any sense. He too stood grabbed his hat from the peg, "Julia's busy at the hospital this morning. We'll have to use our discretion," he noted as he joined the Inspector as they walked to the station entrance.

"That's if he's there," Brackenreid scoffed. "Based on his get up and go spirit," he added, which garnered a looked from the Detective.

It took a few minutes to reach the scene and there were several other constables already there, and they were each chatting with other people. Crabtree led the way with Murdoch and Brackenreid in tow and they all came to a stop "Where is he?" Brackenreid looked around the alley.

"It would appear that you might be right, Sir about Councillor Best's wandering spirit," Murdoch pointed to the hat that lay in the dust. Clearly Brackenreid was not amused and shot the Detective one of those looks that questioned everything.

Murdoch moved to the small crowd, "Who reported finding a body to the police?" he asked aloud.

A man wearing a mid-shin white apron and a striped waste coat turned around and faced Murdoch, who opened his upper suit coat to show his badge. Brackenreid was now right behind the Detective, also eager to listen what the man had to say.

It would appear that the man was a butcher from the shop along the street. He adjusted his spectacles before he spoke. "I've never seen anything like it," he began. "I was just about to open my shop and there he was, just laying there," he pointed to the ground.

"Well, where is he now?" Brackenreid curtly asked.

"I don't know! I left him there and went to call you," the man said, indicating he called the police. "By the time one of your constables showed up he was gone," the man exclaimed.

Murdoch glanced at his boss before he looked at the butcher, "What time of day was this?" he asked.

The man thought for a few seconds, "Around six this morning," he replied.

"This makes no bloody sense," Brackenreid growled.

"You spoke with one of our other constables suggesting you recognized the man," Murdoch continued with his enquiry.

The butcher nodded, "I am certain that it was Councillor Best," he said. "I've never found a body before," suddenly the man looked unwell.

"It's a frightful thing to be sure," Murdoch noted. "Did this body, I mean Councillor Best have anything with him?"

The butcher shook his head no. "Just his hat, over there."

Murdoch dismissed the man and then turned to his boss, "I suggest that we pay Councillor Best a visit at home," he said.

"If he is home," Brackenreid lamented. Murdoch couldn't argue the fact. The two men were about to set off and pay Councillor Best a visit, however, George stopped them. "You might like to see this, Sirs," he motioned for the men to follow him. They walked along the street a little ways where Crabtree stopped at a doorway, "Does the look familiar?" the Constable asked.

"It certainly does, George," Murdoch replied as he crouched down.

"Another shrunken head?" Brackenreid asked as he looked over the Detective's shoulder, bracing himself for what be in the sack.

"I hope not, Sir," Murdoch said as he carefully opened the sack. "Well, well," he stated as he used his white handkerchief to pick up one of the Egyptian amulets and held it up for all to see. "George, get these back to the station and check them for fingermarks," the Detective ordered as he placed the artifact back into the sack, and stood up. Murdoch turned to face his boss, "We might have to pay the university a visit as well," he sighed.

Brackenreid frowned, "What the devil is going on?" he growled.

"That's a very good question, Sir," Murdoch replied as he looked the street hoping for answers.


	11. Chapter 11

Little did Murdoch or Brackenreid know between the time the butcher found him and the police arrived, Best had made his way home and was quick to change and back into bed before his wife even woke up. His head was spinning with though of the Egyptian amulets and Raquel. He had to get the money for her, but he had no idea where the sack went once he awoke in the alley. He sighed and closed his eyes thinking he'd have to take something from the stash of stolen antiquities that had he stored in the shed out back. Best had hope to keep them until he found a willing buyer; one who was able to turn a blind eye and moved the objects quickly for the money alone. Slowly he had drifted off to sleep, probably not for more than twenty minutes when Florence awoke.

Florence sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, while picking up her cotton dressing gown. With out-stretched arms, she yawned widely as she studied her sleeping husband. For some reason she decided to let him sleep a while longer, based on his strange behaviour the evening before. Sticking her dainty feet into the plush slippers, she then stood closing the dressing gown around her waist.

Florence fussed with her hair slightly while the looked in the mirror, before she left the bedroom. She shuffled along the hall and then down the stairs just as there was a knock at the front door. "Who would be knocking at this hour of the day?" she grumbled, hoping to ignore whoever was at the door. Again, there was another knock, this one sounding more impatient. Florence drew her lips tight with disapproval as she unlocked the door, opening to see the Detective and the Inspector standing on the stoop.

"Mrs. Best," Murdoch tipped his hat slightly. Brackenreid was more subtle as he just touched the brim of his bowler.

" What is it now?" Florence asked flatly and showing her disapproval by placing her right hand firmly on his right hip.

"Would your husband be home?" Murdoch asked.

"Yes he is. He's upstairs sleeping. Why?" Florence countered with her own question. Brackenreid's eyebrows lifted as he tried to comprehend what was going on.

"Did he happen to go out last evening?" Murdoch then asked.

"No. He came home later from a meeting, we ate and he went to bed," Florence stated. Murdoch looked over to his boss, who had the same look on his face.

"We'll be back later to ask him a few questions," Murdoch said as he tipped his hat again.

"What is all of this about?" Florence asked.

"It's part of an ongoing investigation," Murdoch replied.

"Well, I would really like to know what's going on," Florence sputtered.

"So would I," Brackenreid scoffed as he followed Murdoch down the stairs and off the veranda. Murdoch tried not to smile at the comment from his boss, but he did find it humorous. As they walked along Brackenreid stopped the Detective, "What if Best is crackers?" he asked.

"There is that possibility, Sir. Perhaps he's suffering from senile decay," Murdoch suggest as food for thought. Brackenreid ticked his head at the idea and they continued on their way. Their next stop was they University of Toronto.

Dean David Miller was clearly in a flap. The university corridor was filled with police constables from Station House No. 8 who were busy taking photos and gathering evidence. "Sir?" Constable Calderwood, tried to get his boss' attention.

Detective Munro pulled himself away from the conversation with his boss, Inspector Byers and Dean Miller, "What is it, Garrett?" he asked.

"I think the boys have everything that we could gather at the scene," Calderwood stated.

"That's good. Get it back to the station and begin processing it," Munro requested.

"Yes, Sir," Calderwood said as he gathered the men to leave. Just then Murdoch and Brackenreid then appeared on site garnering a look from Calderwood to Munro. Munro looked over to the two men, "Can I help you?" he asked halting from approaching further.

Murdoch and Brackenreid flashed their badges, "Detective Murdoch and Inspector Brackenreid, from Station House No. 4," Murdoch replied.

"What brings you here. This is our jurisdiction," Munro challenged.

"We're following up on a case we're working on," Murdoch stated.

"What case?" Munro asked. There was a tone of annoyance in his voice.

"One which involves a shrunken head and Councillor Best," Brackenreid spoke up.

By now, Inspector Travis Byers made his way over to the three men, "Brackenreid," he acknowledged Station House No. 4's Inspector. "Byers," Brackenreid replied. "What brings you here?" Byers asked.

"Like Detective Murdoch was just saying, we're following up on a case," Brackenreid squared himself to his coequal.

"I see," Byers said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And just what is this case?" he asked the Inspector.

"One that involves a shrunken head and perhaps Councillor Best," Brackenreid was getting his hackles up.

"A shrunken head?" Byers half laughed. "What the hell is that?" he looked over to Calderwood.

The Constable stepped forward, "It's a tiny shrivelled human head from South America," Garrett replied. Both Brackenreid and Murdoch exchanged looks as they both wondered if Calderwood and Crabtree were related somehow.

"If you need to see it, it's in the city morgue," Murdoch interjected.

"Interesting, but how does that relate to this?" Munro asked bluntly.

"It was taken from here, some time ago," Brackenreid answered.

"By Councillor Best?" Munro scoffed.

"That we don't know, yet," Murdoch stated. "However, while investigating an unusual occurrence, we did discover a sack full of what would look like Egyptian amulets," the Detective noted.

"Interesting," Calderwood stated. The other men looked at him. "Don't you have something to do?" Munro asked the Constable who quickly took leave of himself.

Dean Miller was near enough to the conversation to hear it, "Did you just say you found the amulets?"

"We found amulets, yes, but they are begin tested for fingermarks," Murdoch stated.

"Fingermarks? You can't subject those to tests!" the Dean shouted. "Good God, man! The are ancient pieces and I want them returned immediately!" he demanded.

Brackenreid had had enough, "Look here 'Sunshine'," he warned with his walking stick firmly gripped in his right hand, "I've had enough running around on his bloody case today. Your amulets will be returned once we're through with them," he firmly stated. Murdoch was rather pleased with his boss, as he too was growing tired of the seemingly dead ends that they were running into with regards to the case at hand. Miller thrust his nose in the air and turned on his heels, "My superiors will be in touch with yours," he huffed as he walked away.

"Blood hell," Brackenreid cursed.

"You were within your rights, Sir," Murdoch stated. "The amulets are evidence and shall be handled as such," he added.

Brackenreid turned to his colleague and friend, "Thanks Murdoch. You know, I really wanted to sock him. Who does he think he is?" the Inspector turned his head and watched the dean walk away. "Pompous ass," he then said.

"He's just concerned about the break-in and the missing antiquities," the Detective offered.

"Well, I'm just concerned about solving this bloody case," Brackenreid grunted as he looked back at Murdoch. "And what have we got? A shrunken head. A bag full of amulets. Initials in a book and a whole bunch of nothing! I'm going back to the station. You do what you need to do here," the Inspector stated as he trudged off to the the door.

Murdoch really couldn't blame his boss for feeling the way he did. In fact he shared his feelings more than he showed. It was a frustrating case, indeed.


	12. Chapter 12

Brackenreid arrived back at Station House No. 4 and quickly strolled to his office, hoping to avoid anymore confrontations. He entered his office, and peeled off his suit coat, and hat, placing them both on the rack just inside the door. He dropped his walking stick across his desk before he turned and looked out the window behind his desk. He thrust his hands into this trouser pockets as he thought how nothing seemed to be going right with the Maxwell Best case. Slowly he turned and looked out into the bullpen, where the constables were busy with one thing or another.

The Inspector walked to the door, "What had you found out, Crabtree?" he asked.

Crabtree looked up from his desk, "Sir!" the Constable jumped. "Councillor Best most certainly handled these ancient wonders," he proclaimed as his eyes drifted back while he admired the amulets. "There are other fingermarks on them as well, but we don't have those on record," he added as he slowly looked back at the Inspector.

"The others don't matter then," the Inspector stated. "We have Best where we need him," he seemed happy with the results. "Now we need to bring him in," he ticked his head as a hint.

"Oh, yes Sir," Crabtree nudged Higgins and the two constables quickly picked up their helmets and left the station. A sense of satisfaction swept over the Inspector as if he finally felt like he a contributed something positive to solving the bizarre case. With that, he walked back into his office and poured himself a small drink, then sat at this desk to further ponder the events of the day.

Meanwhile, William Murdoch concluded that the only way into the antiquities room was through the door, and only certain people had keys, and all had alibis that seemed solid, all except the janitor, Harry Parker. Murdoch decided to pay him another visit, this time he found the janitor in the hall just outside his room. Parker was busy sweeping the marble floor, "I'd like another word with you, Mr. Parker," the Detective requested.

"What about now?" Parker paused from what he was doing.

"You claim that Councillor Best paid you a visit last night. What was that about again?" Murdoch questioned.

"That old coot is trying buy votes for next year's election. He brought me a," Parker paused and studied the Detective, "a bottle," he shrugged slightly.

"Has he done this before?" Murdoch asked.

"Look, I could lose my job," Parker protested.

"If you don't answer to me, you might be answering in a court of law, and you will lose more than your job," Murdoch warned.

"Look, I didn't do anything wrong. This job is boring. I like visitors," Parker motioned with his hands that he was innocent of any wrong doing.

"Then you won't have any trouble telling me if Councillor Best has visited you before," Murdoch said.

Parker looked sheepish, "A few times. That's all," he sighed.

"Did you see him leave any of these times?" the Detective pushed.

Parker swallowed, "I can't remember," he shrugged.

Murdoch wasn't too happy with the answer realizing that Parker likely drank himself into a stupor every time. "That will be all for now," he concluded as he turned and walked away. He was anxious to hear what George Crabtree discovered with the amulets, so he headed back to Station House No. 4.

The Detective found the station rather quiet when he arrived. It then dawned on him that several of the constables where not at their desks in the bullpen. He glanced over to his boss' office and saw the Inspector at his desk. Murdoch walked over to the open door and rapped lightly on the jamb.

"Murdoch, you're back!" Brackenreid smiled.

"Did George find anything out?" the Detective cast a look back over his shoulder to the amulets that were spread across Crabtree's desk.

"As a matter of fact, he did," Brackenreid rose up from his desk, "and I've sent them out to bring Maxwell Best in for questioning," he said pleased with himself.

"I see," Murdoch smiled. "Very good Sir,"

"His mucky little fingermarks are all over those things," the Inspector point to the constable's desk past Murdoch.

"Very interesting indeed," Murdoch smiled. "It might seem we're close to solving this case after all," he noted.

"Don't curse it, Murdoch," Brackenreid scoffed as he sat back down at this desk. "I'm rather looking forward to hearing what Best has to say for himself," he resumed what he was doing.

"It should be interesting, that's for certain," the Detective said as he dismissed himself and went to his own office, where he discarded his hat to the coat rack. He sat at his desk and sorted through the known evidence that he had gathered to date.

Constables Crabtree and Higgins waited on the veranda in front of Councillor Best's house. Crabtree had knocked on the door a few minutes earlier and now they were waiting. They were certain that they could hear someone inside moving around but there was no sign that the door was about to be answered anytime soon. The sounds came from further in the building. Crabtree nudged Higgins to knock this time. "You knock now," he practically ordered.

Higgins made a face of disapproval but knocked anyway, this time, however, it was just as the door was being unlocked and opened, "Just what does the Toronto Constabulary want this time?" a very upset Florence Best asked curtly while holding the door slightly ajar.

"We'd like Mister Best to come with us to the station for questioning," Crabtree stated.

"What on earth for?" Florence huffed.

"We're in the middle of an investigation, and your husband maybe involved," Crabtree stated.

"Investigation into what?" Florence was getting more terse.

"Theft Madame," Crabtree quickly responded.

"That's preposterous! My husband is an upstanding member of this community and wouldn't stoop to a lowly act like that. He's not poor you know!?," she huffed and prepared to close the door in the faces of the two Constables, but Crabtree stuck his left foot between the door and jamb as she did. George grunted and grit his teeth, "Open the door Mrs. Best," he said firmly. Slowly Florence did open the door. "He's not here," she growled.

"Would he be at his office?" Higgins asked the safe question.

"I should imagine he is," Florence snapped and looked down at Crabtree's foot in the doorway. He quickly moved it and she slammed the door shut.

"That went well," Higgins smiled in his usual slightly simple way.

"Easy for you to say," Crabtree grunted as he lifted left foot, rubbing it before he flexed and set it back down on the veranda. "Come on," George grumbled as he limped slightly toward the road and their bicycles that were leaning against the large maple tree. The two men mounted their bikes and rode off in search of Councillor Maxwell Best.


	13. Chapter 13

Constables Crabtree and Higgins stopped their bicycles in front of the town hall where Councillor Best worked. It was mind afternoon so they hoped that he was still in his office. They also hoped that he'd come peacefully once they asked him to come back to the station.

The two men dismounted their bikes and parked them against the wall before the entered the large building. Crabtree walked to the reception desk and hooked his thumbs over his service belt. Higgins stood slightly behind him and off to the side.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked as she looked over the two constables wondering why the constabulary was at the town hall.

"We need a word with Councillor Best," Crabtree replied.

"Do you have an appointment with him?" the receptionist asked.

Crabtree glanced over to Higgins and then back at the woman behind the desk, "We're policemen. We're working on a troubling case and we'd like to talk to Councillor Best," he stated.

"He prefers that you make an appointment," the receptionist said.

"Ma'am," Crabtree tried to hold back his growing anger, "We need to speak with Mr. Best, now. It's very important," he stressed the urgency. Higgins nodded, but said nothing.

"He won't like it," the woman shot back. "I'm not taking the blame," she then said.

"Just tell us which office is his," Crabtree requested, impatiently.

With a huff, the receptionist pointed down the hall, "His name is on the door, Constable Crabtree," she said as she made special note of the policeman's name in case Best came back on her for allowing them to see him.

Crabtree drew his lips tight and then ticked his head toward Higgins to follow him down the hall. For such a big building, it seemed rather quite. The two men paused at the door before they knocked. Both men exchanged looks, and with a drawn breath, Crabtree rapped on the oak door. They waited a few minutes, looking around the hall as they did.

"I don't hear anyone," Higgins said a he leaned toward the door.

"Knock again," Crabtree said.

Higgins huffed slightly before he did what he was asked to do. And again the men waited. "I don't think he's in there," Henry said.

Crabtree was growing more irritated so he took a hold of the door knob and tried it. The door was locked. Crabtree stepped back, "Do you have a key for this door?" he called down the hall to the receptionist. He could hear some grumbling coming from the foyer and finally the receptionist came marching along, clutching a ring off keys in her right hand. She glared at the two constables before she unlocked the door. "There," she grunted as she walked back to her station, Crabtree grabbed the knob again, opening the into the office. There was no Councillor Best inside. Crabtree cursed under his breath. "He's got to be somewhere," he then said as he glanced around the office.

"Maybe the receptionist knows where we can find him," Henry suggested as he looked around the office.

"Or maybe this agenda book might tell us," Crabtree said as he walked around the back of Best's desk and flicked the closed book open with the end of his pencil. Henry liked his idea better, and grunted at George's mention of the book. Crabtree flipping the pages to the date, and there were no entries. "For a Councillor, he sure doesn't do much. I mean what with all the tax payer's money, he should have a book full of meetings," he said to no one in particular.

"It looks like a new book to me," Henry noted.

"It does, doesn't it?" Crabtree had to agree as he examined the leather-bound book. "Didn't the Detective have one?" he looked up at his colleague having just flipped through the first half of the book, which was empty of any appointments or messages.

Henry shrugged, "Maybe."

"Well, there's nothing helpful in this one," Crabtree sighed. "Let's go back to the Station and see what the Detective wants us to do next," he suggested as he walked to the door. Higgins followed him and pulled the door behind them as they left the room.

"I bet we'll get an earful," Higgins lamented as they walked the hall to the foyer, passing the receptionist along the way. She thrust her nose in the air as if she pulled one over on the police.

"Why do you say that?" George questioned.

"We're coming back empty handed," Henry stated.

"Well if the Councillor wasn't at this work or abode, we don't now where he is, do we?" George explained.

"Maybe, but I still think the Detective and Inspector will be upset with us," Henry said.

"Henry," Crabtree paused, "you always look at things in a negative way. Just think of this as a cat and mouse game," the constable smiled. "We just need to use a bigger piece of cheese to catch the mouse," he said in a positive tone.

"You mean rat," Higgins suggestion.

"Let's call him a large slippery rodent," George suggested. It made Higgins smile. The two men left the building and mounted their bicycles as headed back to Station House No. 4. Maxwell Best saw the two Constables and turned his back to them as they rode by. He'd seen where they had come from and waited until they where well out of sight before he walked to the town hall; curious to see what they were there about.

The councillor took another look around the street before he entered the building, walking briskly to the reception desk.

"You just missed the police," the receptionist said with a hint of sarcasm.

"What did they want?" Best asked.

"You, apparently," the receptionist stated.

"What on earth for?" the councillor quickly asked.

"They didn't say, but they went to your office," the woman said from behind the desk.

"I see," Best said in a disgruntled tone, partly put on. He knew at some point the police would begin to connect the dots, but as long as he could keep ahead of them, and until he paid off Raquel and perhaps get a few more trysts with her, he'd be happy. Best purposely tugged on the bottom edge of his waistcoat, again displaying disapproval, he trust his nose into the air and began to walked down the hall to his office.

"I told them you wouldn't like it," the receptionist called after the councillor. She then went back to work, "I guess I was right," she smiled to her self.

Murdoch was at this desk, leafing through Councillor Best's agenda book. There were a few meetings prior to the entry of R.W. And then afterwards there was virtually nothing as if the man never planned ahead. This puzzled the Detective. Brackenreid strolled into the Detective's office, "Anything yet, Murdoch?" the Inspector asked while he sipped on his glass of scotch.

"Nothing really," Murdoch sighed as he pushed the agenda aside. "I'm hoping that George and Henry bring Best in so that we can talk to him and sort this out. This has been a most troubling case," he concluded.

"You can say that again," Brackenreid agreed just ad Crabtree and Higgins entered the bull pen.

"There they are now," Murdoch said as he stood up.

"Where's Best?" the Inspector questioned noting that the two Constables didn't have Best in tow.

"Good question, Sir. Let's find out," Murdoch said as he joined the Inspector as they walked out to talk to the two Constables.

"Well, gentlemen?" the Inspector was waiting for news on Best.

"Councillor Best, remains at large, I'm afraid," George exclaimed. "He was neither at his residence, or his office," the then stated.

"Bloody wonderful," Brackenreid grunted. "What do we have to do? Camp out at both locations?" he then huffed out of frustration.

"That might not be a bad idea, Sir," Murdoch said as he eyed the two Constables. George could feel his tunic collar tightening around his throat and he gulped.


	14. Chapter 14

Councillor Best left the town hall and swiftly went back to his house. He didn't bother going in, instead he ducked around the side and out to the back shed, hoping that his wife didn't spot him. Like a prowler in an art gallery, he looked around in all directions to make sure no one was watching him. Once he was satisfied that the coast was clear, he unlocked the shed and stepped inside. He scanned the shelves and located the box he had hidden at the back. Carefully he lifted it down and placed it on the small workbench under the window.

Best again looked around before he lifted the lid off the box. Inside were a few more items that he had appropriated from the university's antiquities collection, "I don't even know why they would except such rubbish," he muttered as he carefully moved the ones off the top, to get to what he was looking for at the bottom; a small amber glass jug which had a tag on it stating that it was found in Pompeii. "This should fetch a bundle," he smiled as he wrapped it in a clean cloth. Best tucked it under his arm and exited the shed, locking it behind him.

He had looked up in the city directory a pawn shop called "Wright and Wong," and it was located on Queen Street, a slightly sketchier part of Toronto. He'd heard through the grape vine this this particular pawn shop could move merchandise quite easily and with few questions. What they received today would likely be gone by tomorrow, so-to-say.

The Councillor dashed back to the street where he hailed a cab. He quickly clambered into the coach and instructed the driver to take him to take him to the corner of Queen and Church Streets. He'd walk the rest of they way to the pawn shop. After a short ride, the driver pulled the handsome to a stop and set the break. Best opened the door and stepped down, then paid for the ride.

The Councillor then looked around the busy street corner to locate the pawn shop. It was partway along the block on the north side. Best adjusted his hat to hide his face before he began his journey. Once at the door of the shop, he looked through the glass to see if anyone else was in the business; there were two, but Best didn't recognize them so he entered the shop. A small bell above the door announced his arrival.

There was a tall thin man with a grey moustache and silver rimmed glass that were perched on the end of his nose, and another shorter man, clearly of Asian decent behind the counter off to the right side of the shop. The tall man stepped out from behind the counter, "May I help you?" he questioned.

"I'm hoping so," Best said as he placed the wrapped object carefully down on the counter.

"What do you have there?" the tall man asked.

Best cleared his voice and then unwrapped the glass jug. Both the tall man and the Asian man looked at it then at each other. "Where you get?" the Asian man asked.

"Oh, uh, my uncle let this for me in his will," Best stammered.

"Very interesting," the tall man said. By now the other two people in the shop were looking at the jug. The Asian man pick it up and examined it, "Pompeii?" he said looking at the tag.

"Yes," Best nodded. "You see," he started, "my uncle worked on the excavation," he swallowed. "How much is it worth?" he squeezed out.

"We talk," the Asian man said as he turned away with the object in his hands. The tall man joined him and the huddled together to discuss the object. Best tried to listen, but they were too far way and whispering, as they both noticed the strange numbers on the bottom. The Councillor wrung his sweaty hands as he nervously waited to hear what the two men had to say. It looked like they came to an agreement as both men nodded and turned at the same time. "We say fifty dollar," the Asian man spoke.

"Fifty dollars? Is that all?" Best had hoped for more.

"Take or leave," the Asian said. "This firm offer. No more," he added. The older man sharply nodded once in approval.

Best looked at the other two people who were now watching on. "Fine. I'll take it," he huffed and waited for the money. It was enough to pay Raquel but not enough for any more trysts. "Dammit," he said under his breath as the tall man handed him the cash. Best waded up the bills and crammed them down into his trouser pocket; clearly he was disgruntled as he made a face a the two men and then left the pawn shop. His immediate thought was to pay off Raquel and then head home.

It was late in the day, as George prepared to encamp near the Best's residence. "Are you certain this has to happen?" he questioned his bosses.

"Crabtree, we need Best in here to talk. You've already alluded that he's a 'slippery rodent' so Higgins said," the Inspector stated. George frowned.

Higgins entered the bullpen as the conversation was taking place, 'Where's your positive attitude now, George?" he asked his colleague, to which George shot him a glaring look and mouthed 'shut up" to Henry. Higgins rolled his eyes.

Murdoch entered the bullpen, joining the men, "Are you ready?" he asked the two Constables.

"I am," Higgins spoke first. Murdoch acknowledged with a nod.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Crabtree said with less enthusiasm. Murdoch twisted his mouth at the comment, but chose not to comment.

"George, you know as well as I do we need to catch Councillor Best," Murdoch chastised he Constable as he was about to continue when Crabtree, Brackenreid and Higgins all chimed in unison, "The slippery rodent," they looked at the Detective as his right eyebrow arched in a mixture of question and amazement. Unfazed, Murdoch nodded in agreement that the 'slippery rodent' needed to be brought in, "Yes, I suppose you could call him that, but we still need to find him and bring him in for questing for various reasons," he stated.

Crabtree nodded, "I know Sir," he looked disappointed.

"What is it Crabtree? I thought you liked the sense of adventure," Brackenreid questioned.

"Well, Sir," George cast a glance at Murdoch and then looked back at the Inspector, "Seeing how we've been working all day, I was looking forward to an evening swim at the beach," the Constable lamented with a rather moue expression on his face.

Brackenreid rolled his eyes, "What do you think tubs are made for?" he quickly asked.

"Hygiene mostly, but there's nothing quite like the feeling of being surrounded in cool water on a hot summer night," George smiled. Murdoch hid his smirk; he knew what George was talking about.

"Bloody hell, Crabtree!" the Inspector huffed.

Murdoch quickly injected, "If you find Mister Best, soon," he stressed the word 'soon', "you can take the rest of the night off," he looked George in the eyes.

"I'll hunt the 'slippery rodent' down if I have to," Crabtree said as he picked up his helmet. "Come on Henry, we have work to do," he said with a tone of sarcasm. Both the Inspector and the Detective exchanged looks. Brackenreid again rolled his eyes and went back to his office for a nightcap, before going home. Murdoch smiled slightly at the whole incident, "Good night, Sir," he announced as he left the bullpen and headed for his home in the hotel.


	15. Chapter 15

Constable George Crabtree told Constable Henry Higgins that he was going to station himself at the Best residence. Higgins was none to pleased to have to watch fro Best at the town hall, "Come on George," Higgins tried to plea with his counterpart.

"Henry, there's just as much chance that he will show up there. If you ask me," Crabtree looked around, "He's bound to show up just about anywhere.

"Then maybe I should be at the university instead. I mean who would be going to their office after the town hall closes anyway?" Henry huffed.

Crabtree thought that was a solid suggest, "Okay. That sounds more like a plan," he agreed to the idea. "But, if Best shows up at the town hall and we weren't there," he cautioned while wagging his right index finger in Henry's face.

"I'll bet you a hole dollar that he'll show up at the house," Henry wagered.

"Come on. Time's wasting," George shooed Higgins away. Once the constable was out of sight, he turned and began his journey to the Best house, several blocks away; but the trip would only take a few minutes on bicycle. Once George got to the street, he dismounted the bike and walked along, until he found a small grove of trees in which he could clearly see the front door of the Best residence. "And so it begins," he said to himself as he rested his buttocks on the bicycle seat, leaning into it. He had his arms crossed as he keenly watched across the street.

Maxwell Best adjusted his bow tie as he stood outside the hotel room. He was building up the nerve to knock on the door, hoping that Raquel was able to see him. Best wet his lips and then rapped gently on the dark wooden door. He waited for a few seconds as he leaned forward to hear if there was any movement inside the room.

Best raised his hand up and was about to knock again when he heard movement within the room. Again he wet his lips in anticipation of seeing his new lady friend. The sounds of the door latch being unlocked almost echoed in the hall, causing Best to look around, hoping that everyone else was minding their business. He looked back at the door, just as it open, "Well, hello Max," Raquel purred and opened the door wider, drawing Best into the room with a seductive beckoning index finger. Maxwell smiled as he stepped through the door, closing it behind him with his foot.

"What brings you here at this time of day," Raquel asked as she sat down on the settee and picked up her wine glass.

"I brought the money, just like I said I would," Best smiled hoping that the good deed would lead to something more. The Councillor fumbled with the money as he pulled it from his trouser pocket. He quickly counted out thirty five dollars, leaving him with only fifteen left.

"Well, thank you Maxie," Raquel smiled and gracefully accepted the money, stuffing it down into her corset, between her bosom. Best's couldn't keep his eyes off her, "You look ravishing," he sputtered, as he ran his right index finger around his collar and neck. He could feel his face growing red.

"Whatcha got there?" Raquel questioned the remaining money Best held in his left hand. The Councillor looked down at his clutched fist, "Oh, uh, fifteen dollars," he said looking back up to Raquel.

"I see. Well, for that, it will have to be a quick one," she purred as she wanted the rest of Maxwell's money.

"Yeah! Sure, I mean," Best thrust out his hand, and Raquel took it and the money, and led the Councillor into the bedroom. The door closed with a thud.

"This is a complete waste of my time," Constable Henry Higgins muttered to himself as he crossed his arms. He'd paced across the front entrance to the university building that housed the antiquities collection; this was his twentieth trip. Out of boredom, he was counting the number of times, and so far all he'd seen were some young lovers out for a stroll in the evening warm air. Not one sign of Councillor Maxwell Best. "And to think, I could be enjoying a pint or two with the boys," he sighed.

A few blocks away, Constable George Crabtree kept an eye on the Best residence. Being now dusk and how he was hidden in the bushes, the mosquitoes had come out looking for snacks, "Get away from me," he said as he swatted at the creatures, but it seemed like if he killed one, ten more would come to its funeral; they were relentless and the more he thrashed around in the bushes, the more seemingly sought him out. One mosquitoes buzzed his right ear, and out of frustration Crabtree set to kill it dead with a mighty slap, he almost sent himself into the next week, "Good gracious!" he said as his ear rang after the blow. He then quickly cover his mouth, thinking he'd given his under cover position away. However, like Henry, there was no action at the Best house.

Within the hour, Maxwell Best had returned home. Crabtree's heart almost skipped a beat out of pure excitement as he watched the Councillor walk up to his house. The Constable was quickly crossed the street and watched from the sidewalk, until Best had gone inside. With a sharp tug to the bottom of his tunic, Crabtree straightened his back and marched up to the door, rapping several times; loudly.

It took a few minutes before the door was again unlocked and opened. Florence Best stood in the opening, looking non-to-pleased, "What is it Constable?"

"I'm here to see your husband, Ma'am," Crabtree answered.

"Not about this silly theft, again," Florence huffed.

"Yes, Ma'am," Crabtree replied.

"What is it, dear?" Maxwell called from the sitting room.

"It's the police," Florence answered.

Maxwell stood and his face went red and he glanced around the room looking for a quick exit, but from where he stood, he could see the Constable staring at him. With a slight huff he slowly walked to the door, "What's this about?" he tried to compose himself.

"He's says the police want to talk to you about some theft, or something," Florence state.

"How preposterous!" Best snorted at the accusation. "You do know who I am, don't you?" he questioned Crabtree.

"I do sir, that's why it's imperative that you come with me to Station House No. 4 for questioning," George replied.

Best's mouth dropped open, "I haven't done anything wrong!" he firmly stated.

"Your fingermarks are on some objects that have been identified as stolen from the University," Crabtree said. "How do you explain that? Not to mention that that you've been found dead twice."

"Dead? Do I look dead to you? And of course you'd find my finger marks on objects. This is ridiculous. I sit on the board of antiquities. If you are referring to the list that Dean Miller had prepared," he countered.

"Sir, please, let's just go to the station," Crabtree insisted.

"I'm an innocent man," Maxwell plead . "I'll come by tomorrow morning to prove it," he added.

Constable Crabtree pondered the proposal, "I'll agree to that. But," he warned sternly, "If you don't come in my nine a.m. tomorrow morning, I will put out a warrant for your immediate arrest."

Best crossed his arms, "I'm a man of my word, Constable," he said stiffly. "I'll be at your station tomorrow morning," he said adding assurance to his pledge.

"Station House No. 4," Crabtree reminded him before he turned on his heels and left the veranda to get his bicycle. He hoped that he made the right decision. Unsure he, he glanced back at the closing door. He could here the Bests talking, rather loudly at that. He heard her questioning him about begin dead. Perhaps if it got that bad for the Councillor, he'd come in earlier than expected to avoid the wrath of his wife. George mounted his bike and rode over to the University to talk to Higgins before he would turn in for the night.


	16. Chapter 16

It was a bright crisp morning with clear sky. The thunderstorm that rolled through Toronto in the early hours of the morning, cleared out the humidity and smog that was in the air. Station House No. 4 was already a bustling place, with several scoundrels having been rounded up throughout the night. They waited processing while being guarded outside the bullpen. Some where there only as witnesses for the ones that went immediately to the holding cells. Others were pleading their innocence.

George Crabtree entered through the Constable Entrance and looked around. He didn't see Councillor Best in the lot, which made him frown.

Murdoch spotted the Constable and called for him, "George," he motioned for Crabtree to join him in his office. The Constable suddenly like he was in the cross-hairs of a gun. He was hoping that the Detective wouldn't ask ask about Best. Reluctantly, the Constable walked to the door of Murdoch's office, "Yes, Sir?"

"How did things work out last night, George?" Murdoch asked as he looked over his file on Councillor Best.

Crabtree made a face as he was trying to find a way of telling his boss what happened, "Well, you see," he began as he carefully crafted his sentence. George was just about to continue when Councillor Best appeared in the station. "Here's Councillor Best, now," he smiled with relief.

Murdoch's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He knew Crabtree was up to something and would ask him later, but for now it was the time to talk to Councillor Best. The entrance of Best also garnered the attention of Inspector Brackenreid, who stood from behind his desk and walked to the door.

"So now what?" Best asked George. "I have a very busy day scheduled," he barked.

"Not from what your book said," Higgins interjected with a slight bemused look on his face from his desk in the bullpen. Best's eyes narrowed at the comment as he recognized the Constable.

"We'd like a word with you," Brackenreid stated from his doorway. He watched Murdoch and Crabtree enter the bullpen. "Take him to the interview room, Murdoch," the Inspector ordered.

"I don't understand what you want from me!" Best protested.

"I'm sure it will all come clear, Councillor," Murdoch assured the man as he led him down the hall to the interview room, "please have a seat," he said as he opened the door and let the man into room. Best now looked like a cornered cat. Murdoch closed the door and went back to his office.

"Aren't you going to talk to him?" Brackenreid asked.

"I will in a few minutes," the Detective smiled slightly. "Perhaps you'd like to join me," he said as he picked up the file from his desk.

"This will be bloody interesting," Brackenreid scoffed.

"Indeed, Sir," Murdoch said as he walked back to the interview room only to discover Best, face down on the table. His arms hung down past his knees.

"Bloody hell!" Brackenreid exclaimed. He turned and bellowed for Crabtree, "Crabtree! Get Doctor Ogden!"

Y-y-yes, Sir!" George sputtered as he dashed through the station, heading to the morgue.

Murdoch and Brackenreid exchanged looks, "Looks like the old bloke popped his cogs again," he lifted his eyebrows quickly as he looked back at the Councillor.

Murdoch was about to say something but chose not to. He knew what his boss meant, but wasn't going to chastise him for his terminology. "Perhaps we should notify his wife," he suggested, instead.

"Let's see what the good Doctor has to say first. This isn't the first time the old boy died, is it?" the Inspector cast a glance at William.

"No," Murdoch answered with a puzzled looked on his face. "It does seem rather odd, indeed," he added as he stared at Best from the doorway of the interview room.

"Everything these days seems a bit odd if you ask me," Brackenreid grunted. "Notify me when Doctor Ogden arrives. I'm going to have a drink," he stated clearly.

"On days like this, I wish I could join you," Murdoch sighed as he watched his boss walk back to his office for a quick nip. The Detective had taken a few drinks himself, but not while on active duty, mostly with his wife over dinner. He preferred a clear mind whilst working on a case, and in this instance, a very curious case, indeed.

Across the street, George Crabtree hustled to the city morgue and quickly entered. He found Doctor Julia Ogden and Miss James working on a body; they both looked up in surprise at the entrance the Constable had made, "Ladies," he quickly smiled.

"George! What is it?" Julia stopped what she was doing.

"The Inspector asked me to fetch you," Crabtree pointed to the door. "It would appear that Councillor Best has died," he added.

"Died? Again?" Julia asked as George nodded. "This is so bizarre," Ogden looked at James. "Please continue on here while I look into this," she smiled at her assistant.

"Certainly, Doctor," Miss James watched as the Doctor quickly washed her hands and took her medical bag before she joined George Crabtree. The two hustled back across the street and entered the police station. "He's in the interview room," George said as he stopped at the bullpen. Brackenreid noticed the Doctor as he finished his drink and quickly got to his feet to join her. He was more than eager to find out what was going on.

"William?" Julia asked as she entered the dark-panelled room.

"Julia," Murdoch acknowledged his wife.

"What happened?" Ogden asked as she approached the Councillor's body.

"He seemed quite fine when he came in for questioning, and between the time we asked him in here, and I came back..." he paused. "This is how we found him," he looked down at Best.

Julia drew a deep breath and began her examination. Even her eyebrows knitted together in question, "He was like this the first time we found him," she stated as she felt around his neck.

By now Brackenreid was at the door, "So did he finally cash it in?" he asked.

Julia looked up with a slightly bemused look on her face, "I don't think so," she continued her exam, "He has a very faint pulse," she then smiled.

"Which means what?" the Inspector quickly asked.

"He has had a fainting spell or something," Julia hypothesized.

"So every time he's been found "dead" he was actually alive?" the Inspector questioned.

"It would seem so. But I wouldn't know without further tests to know why," Ogden stepped back. "I suggest that he might have a medical condition which might be brought on by stress, or a shock," she hinted.

"I see," Murdoch's eyes narrow. "That makes sense," he smiled at his wife.

"It does?" Brackenreid questioned.

George over heard the conversation and quickly joined in, "I've read about some goats that fall over "dead" when they are shocked or surprised. Maybe he's like that," he offer, only to have Brackenreid glare at him.

"Perhaps, George," Murdoch acknowledged the Constable's comment. "I have a sneaking suspicion that Councillor Best has been very much involved with the shrunken head and the Egyptian amulets," Murdoch noted.

"Oh? How so?" Brackenreid asked waiting a little bit impatiently for the answer.

"I haven't put all the pieces together yet, Sir. But," Murdoch turned and faced his boss, "But I do believe we're close. We just need Councillor Best to wake up," he smiled.

"Bloody hell. He's wandered off the last two times," Brackenreid pointed out.

"Indeed. But tonight, he's our guest," Murdoch smiled as he motioned for Crabtree, "Get him to a jail cell, and see that he stays there," Murdoch ordered.

"Yes, Sir," the Constable got right to the job.

"We'll question Mister Best, later today," Murdoch smiled.

"If he's alert by then," Julia said.

"Yes. If he's alert by then," Murdoch nodded. Brackenreid rolled his eyes, "This bloody case will never end!" he snorted and headed back to his office. "I feel the same way," Murdoch sighed also.

"Certainly it will," Julia smiled. "I'll come back later to check on your guest," she said as she flitted away. Again William sighed.


	17. Chapter 17

Constable George Crabtree enlisted the help of Constable Henry Higgins to get Councillor Best to the holding cell. "Let's see you wander off now," Crabtree said as he pulled a blanket over the man's shoulders once they got him onto the cot. Both constables left the cell, locking it behind them. George stood and looked at the man and nodded.

"What are you thinking about, George?" Higgins asked.

"Goats that faint. You should really read more, Henry," Crabtree quipped. "There's a whole other world out there," he motioned with his right hand as if he painted an imaginary rainbow.

"Yeah, sure," Higgins snorted. "How do you know what's been written is true?" he questioned George as they walked back to the bullpen.

"That's a very good point, Henry. I'll have to think about that," George said as he pondered the question they arrived at their destination.

Henry quickly sat down and resumed what he was doing, but George got called into Murdoch's office, "Yes, Sir?" he asked.

"George, we're going to pay Mrs. Best a visit and then we're going to the town hall. Let's get to out bicycles, shall we," Murdoch smiled.

"Certainly, Sir. But I doubt we'll find anything at the town hall," the Constable noted.

"George, I am certain that the key to all of this lay in Councillor Best's office. Somewhere," the Detective stated. Crabtree shrugged as he couldn't dispute the fact that there was a missing link to Best and the found items that were taken from the University. George followed the Detective out to the back alley behind Station House No.4 where their bikes were parked. They quickly mounted them and were on their way.

The ride over to the Best residence was fairly swift and uneventful. Both men parked their bicycles at the curb; against the large maple tree. "Mrs. Best is going to streaming mad," George sighed. "She wasn't pleased to see Henry and me the last time," he added.

"Well, Mrs. Best might be more interested once we tall her about her husband," William looked at Crabtree. "We'll just see how much she loves her husband," he added as they strolled to the front door.

"I'll be glad when this case is closed," George sighed as he adjusted his tunic.

"As will I," Murdoch said as he knocked on the front door and waited. He glanced nervously around as he heard movement with in the dwelling. George rocked on his heels as he waited with his boss. They didn't say anything more to each other, but focused on telling Mrs. Best that her husband was not only at the station house, but also seemingly next to dead again.

After a moment or so, the door was unlatched and opened. A very unamused Florence Best stood in the doorway, "What can I do for the Constabulary today?" she asked quite sarcastically.

Murdoch drew a breath and composed himself, "It's a matter of your husband," he said. "May we come in?" he asked as he noted a few neighbours taking a peak at them on the Best's veranda. "It would be for the best," he urged.

Florence back out of the doorway and made room for the men to enter the house and both men removed their head-wear. She fussed with her hair, for she was not really ready for company, "Would you like to sit?" she asked as she noticed something different in the Detective's tone.

Murdoch nodded in agreement and followed Florence to the drawing room, where she motioned for the Detective to take a seat. George chose to remain in the entrance way and watched on. "Now, Detective, what is it?" she huffed as she too took a seat across from Murdoch. She also could see George from where she sat.

"Has your husband ever had a medical issue?" Murdoch asked.

"Whatever do you mean? He's fit as a fiddle," Florence stated firmly.

"Fainting," Murdoch said as he watched the woman across from him. Florence shook her head no. Murdoch explained, "You see, we've ask him to come into the station for questioning on some puzzling thefts, and when he did, he fainted. We thought he had died. Not once, but three times now, during our investigation into this case."

"Oh, that's ridiculous! Maxwell isn't a thief! He's too proud of his public perception," Florence chortled.

"What about the fainting?" Murdoch asked.

Florence narrowed her eyes, "What did you do to him?"

"Merely put him in the interview room," William shrugged. "We wanted to question him about a few things," he added.

Florence said nothing at first but after a few awkward moments she stood up and walked over to the mantle which surrounded the large fireplace at the side of the room, "There was one occasion a few years back. On his fiftieth birthday, in fact," she began. "It was all rather silly," she smiled as she remembered the event. Murdoch glanced over to Crabtree, and both men braced themselves for what was to come. Florence picked up a framed photograph of her husband and began.

"I read about a rather risque party in New York City, where men gathered and a naughty scantily clad woman popped out of a pie," she motioned with her arms. "I could well imagine how the men who were the only ones in attendance reacted," she continued. "But I couldn't dare do that here, it would be too scandalous. Nor would I even try," she looked directly at Murdoch. He nodded. "So I decided that in good humour to throw my husband a birthday party and invited all his friends and colleagues," she smiled.

"How does this connect to his fainting?" Murdoch had to ask.

"Well it does!" Florence replied. "Are all of you policemen so abrupt?"

"I just need to know," Murdoch plead.

Florence made a face of disapproval, but continued with her story anyway. Again Murdoch looked over to George who merely shrugged. "I had hired a cake company to make a very big cake, and then I hired an actress who placed an advertisement in the paper. You see, she was looking for a job," Florence smiled. "The thing was," she said as she moved closer to William, "It was all a surprise. That actress was hidden in the cake and when the time was right, we sang Happy Birthday, and she popped out through the top, tossing confetti everywhere! It was quite the sight." She laughed. "And that's when it happened," she continued to laugh.

Murdoch stood up from the chair, "When what happened?" he asked as he clutched his hat in his hands.

Florence finally stopped laughing. "When he fainted. You should have seen the look on his face," she said as she placed the photograph back down on the mantel. "It was extremely funny, but he came too with some smelling salts," she added.

"And you don't know if he's had anymore of these fainting spells?" the Detective asked.

"Oh, heavens no," Florence waved Murdoch's question away with her hand.

"Perhaps you should come to the police station," Murdoch stated.

"Is my husband all right?" Mrs. Best quickly asked.

Murdoch didn't know how to answer the question and his face showed it. "As I said before, we know of at least three times he's had one of these spells. And currently he's resting in one of our jail cells," the Detective explained.

"Oh my heavens!" Florence cupped her cheeks with her hands. "I'll have to get dressed to go there. I can't just go looking like this," she said looking down at her everyday dress. "Which station?" she quickly asked.

"Number four, Ma'am," George said from the doorway.

"I'll get there are soon as I can," Florence stated. "Now if you'll excuse me," she motioned for both men to leave the house. Murdoch and Crabtree did just that. "Ask for Inspector Brackenreid when you arrive. The Constable and I have another stop to make before we get back tot he station," the Detective said in parting.

Florence looked non-to-pleased over the whole situation. "I still say you have made a grievous error questioning my good husband about any silly theft," she added as she abruptly closed the door in their faces.

"Well," Murdoch stated as he stared at the door, just inches from his nose.

"I can't imagine a lady jumping out of a cake," Crabtree's mind was clearly elsewhere.

"Let's think about the case first, George," the Detective sighed as he tried to get George's mind off the cake.

"Yes, Sir," Crabtree reluctantly agreed. "I'll have to tell Henry about this," he said to himself as he strolled down the walkway behind his boss wearing a bemused look on his face.


	18. Chapter 18

Murdoch and Crabtree arrived at the town hall and stepped off their bicycles, leaning them against the heavy brickwork steps. They composed themselves as the walked up the steps into the building. Luckily it was Mrs Kelly at the reception desk again.

The Detective and Constable walked over to the desk and waited until Mrs. Kelly looked up from her work, "He's not here," she informed the two men, knowing full well who they had come about.

"We know," Murdoch smiled. "He's at Station House No 4.," he informed the receptionist. Her mouth dropped open slightly.

"Why is he there?" Kelly quickly asked.

"I'm not at liberty so say," Murdoch stated. She was clearly unimpressed, now she was left out of the potential gossip. "Then what can I do for you?" she quipped.

"Would you happen to know who R.W. Is? Councillor Best has had several meeting with this person or group and we need to speak with them," the Detective asked.

Kelly paused for a moment to think, "He's never said anything. He just tells me when he's out and when he'll be back. His agenda should have help you," she remembered they had taken one of Best's book.

"It didn't," Murdoch stated. "Perhaps if we could have another look around his office."

Mrs. Kelly practically rolled her eyes as she pulled the ring of keys from off the hook. This time she located the key on the ring and handed it to the Detective. "Please return it when you leave," she added.

Murdoch nodded, "I will. Thank you," he smiled as he took the ring, ensuring that he held the proper key between his fingers. The two policemen walked down the hall and opened the door into Best's office. "We have to leave here with something, this time," Murdoch said as he left the key in the lock and entered the room, looking around.

"What are we expected to find, Sir?" Crabtree asked as he examined a photograph he'd picked up off a small table next to the chair at the centre of the room in front of the massive desk.

"Anything that can lead us to R. W.," the Detective said as he sat down at the desk and flipped through Best's agenda book. The new one contained no entries, "I thought the Councillor said he had lots of meetings today," he held the book up to show George the blank page.

"I think he fancies himself," the Constable replied as he studied the photograph. It looked to take at some party or an event, as everyone was smiling and looking at each other. A rather candid shot, the Constable thought as he placed the frame back down on the table and continued to poke around the office.

Murdoch stood up from the desk, I've found nothing," he sighed.

"Henry and I didn't find anything, either," George reported.

"We're missing something," Murdoch clenched his right hand into a fist out of frustration.

"Maybe we'll just have to pry it out of Councillor Best," Crabtree shrugged as he followed his boss back out to the hall. Murdoch locked the door and the two men walked back to the reception desk. Mrs. Kelly was talking to a well dressed woman, "I'm not sure when he will be back in his office," she informed the woman as she glanced over to tow policemen, taking the keys from the Detective.

"Then perhaps I should come back another time," the woman smiled.

Murdoch and Crabtree strolled to the door, and on their way past, Crabtree noticed the sliver initials on the woman's clutch purse. They we're "R. W." He stopped and tapped the Detective on the shoulder, "Sir," he didn't want to turn around and gawk at the woman.

"What is it, George?" Murdoch was still annoyed having not found anything tangible to the case and Maxwell Best.

"That woman at the front desk. Her purse had the initials 'R. W.' on it," the Constable noted. William slowly turned and looked, "Good eye, George," he smiled. The two men watched for a moment, when it dawned on Crabtree, "She was in that photograph too!" he whispered. "You don't say," Murdoch smiled. "Let's have a chat with her," he said just as she turned away from the reception desk. Murdoch stepped forward, "May we have a word with you?"

"Me? Why?" the woman asked.

"Murdoch opened his upper suit coat to show his badge, "Detective William Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary," he offered with a friendly smile.

"I see. Well how can I help you," she purred as she looked William over from head to toe and back again. Murdoch could feel his cheeks growing flush.

"May I ask your name?" Murdoch finally spat out. She was a gorgeous woman, indeed.

"Certain," she smiled. "It's Raquel Wilkins. Why do you ask?" she inquired.

Murdoch's right eyebrow shot up. He leaned forward slightly, "May I be so bold as to ask who you were here to see?"

"Councillor Best," Wilkins came straight out with is.

Murdoch straightened himself with the answer. "What's the nature of your call?" he then asked.

"It's a business deal, and none of your business," Wilkins' tone changed.

"I'd like you come to the station with us, for some questioning please," Murdoch insisted.

"I've done nothing wrong," Raquel stood firmly in the foyer, now her hands were balled up and on her hips.

"Then you shouldn't mind coming in to answer a few questions," Murdoch countered. Wilkins' realized that if she didn't go with the police, they would become more suspicious, so she reluctantly agreed. Murdoch and Crabtree exchanged looks, "I'll go with Ms Wilkins," the Detective stated.

"Certainly Sir," Crabtree nodded. He frowned at the thought of walking two bicycles back to the station.

Maxwell Best's latest spell didn't last as long as his previous ones. He found himself alone in the block of holding cells as the rest were empty, which was a rarity at Station House No. 4. The Councillor sat on the edge of his cot, with the blanket draped over his shoulders. He wondered when anyone was going to come around and check on him, and more-so, release him. "This is preposterous," he grumbled just as the door opened with Inspector Brackenreid and Doctor Ogden walking into the area.

"Well, looky here," Brackenreid looked at the Councillor, "Looks like he's alive again."

"I want out of here. Do you know what people will say if they know I've been locked up?" Best was quick on his feet.

"You'll leave as soon as you answer a few questions," the Inspector informed Best.

"Well get on with it then," the Councillor growled.

"Once Detective Murdoch is back we will certain get on with it," Brackenreid snapped back. "Is he fit to answer questions?" he then asked Ogden.

Julia shrugged, "He's alert, I don't see why not. I'll stay here in case...well, you know," she smiled weakly. Brackenreid rolled his eyes as he turned away, "I can't wait for this case to end," he mumbled. Julia nodded in agreement, "It's certainly one for the books," she then snickered. Best glared at the two as they left.

No sooner than Brackenreid and Ogden appeared in the station proper so did Florence Best. "I want to see my husband!" she demanded.

"Now, Mrs. Best, you can see him in due time," Brackenreid put his hands up to stop her advance.

"Your Detective said he was unwell," Florence sputtered in confusion.

"I assure you he's quite alright," Julia chimed in. A perplexed look fell upon Florence's face. "What's going on here?" she then asked.

"That's exactly what we'd like to know. Now please, Ma'am, have a seat," Brackenreid motioned to a chair in the bullpen. Florence huffed and plunked herself down, just as Murdoch and Raquel Wilkins enter the station. "Who's with the Detective?" she hissed.

"I dunknow," Brackenreid admitted. "Let me find out," he said as he dismissed himself as he moved thought the station.

"Please wait over there," Murdoch motioned to Raquel to sit in the bullpen.

"Murdoch?" the Inspector pulled him aside. "Who is that?" he glanced over his shoulder.

"Her name is Raquel Wilkins. Possibly our 'R. W.' from Best's agendas," Murdoch whisped.

Brackenreid looked back at the bullpen where Florence was seated. "Oh, boy. You don't suppose..."

"I'm sure we'll soon find out, Sir," Murdoch stated. He wasn't sure exactly what to do next. "Is Councillor Best up to be interviewed?" he asked.

"According to your wife, yes. This is going to get messy, isn't it?" the Inspector asked.

"It might just," Murdoch stated as he watched two women as they chatted. He was not sure how to approach either woman without offending either one. "This might take some time, Sir," he glanced over to his boss.

"Oh, joy," Brackenreid huffed before he walked back to his office for a drink. "Indeed," Murdoch sighed.


	19. Chapter 19

Murdoch walked to the holding cells and Best saw him, "I demand to be released, right now!" he stood up and grabbed at the iron bars.

Murdoch flashed his charming smile, "First we need to talk," he said as he unlocked the cell door and swung it opened. "Please come with me," he motioned with his left hand. "Whatever is going on here, has to be very big misunderstanding," Best stated.

"Then we had better sort it out," Murdoch countered. "Now, please," he again motioned. Best tossed the blanket onto the cot and scowled at the Detective as he slowly left the cell. He didn't say a word as they entered the station proper, where he noticed his wife talking to Raquel. The Councillor swallowed hard and his eyes widened and his face reddened. "Is there a problem, Councillor?" Murdoch asked as he looked at Best and then to the women.

"Oh, no. I...I just didn't want Florence to see me here," Best stammered.

"We had to tell her. Remember, you fainted," the Detective said.

"Oh, yes, yes,, yes," Best tried to brush Murdoch off. "Let's get on with this interview, shall we?" he said regaining his composure.

Murdoch reached for the door on the interview door and watched Best. He then glanced over his shoulder to see Raquel give the Councillor a little flirtatious wave. He looked back at Best who smiled weakly before he entered the door; the Detective's eyebrows knitted together.

Best took a seat at the table and Murdoch was just about to close the door when it happened.

"Who were you waving at?" Florence curtly asked Raquel.

"None of your business," Wilkins' thrust her nose in the air.

"I saw you looking at my husband," Florence growled. "How do you know him?" she demanded an answer.

"Again, it's none of your business!" Raquel countered as he forcefully crossed her arms over her chest. "The police asked me to come here, and for what reason I don't know," Wilkins growled back.

Florence almost jumped to her feet, "You've been seeing my husband, haven't' you?" she almost yelled.

Brackenreid was quick to his feet and into the bullpen just as Raquel was onto her feet defending her comment. The two women began to swat at each other, and then their fists became faster and faster as they engaged in a miniature brawl. The Inspector stepped forward to try and separate the women only to get a fist in the left eye, which caused him to reel backward, tripping over a chair before he hit the floor with a groan.

Murdoch's eyes were wide in surprise at the ensuing carnage. He quickly went to his boss' aid, helping him back to his feet while the women continued to pummel each other, before they engaged in pulling each others hair.

"Stop!" Murdoch yelled as he too tried to break up the fight. Crabtree and Higgins were now also involved as they tried to separate the women. Finally Murdoch used his two pinkie fingers in the corner of his mouth and blew hard creating a deafening whistle. "Stop it right now!" he bellowed again. And slowly Florence and Raquel released each other. They remained on their feet, breathing heavily and glaring at one another.

Murdoch looked over to his boss; Brackenreid was holding his hand over his left eye, "Get those two separated before they start the next bloody war," he ordered.

Crabtree ushered Mrs. Best into Murdoch's office and made her sit in the chair in front of the Detective's desk, "I strongly encourage you to stay there until the Detective wants to talk to you," he said with a tone of warning. Florence tried to recompose herself. She couldn't imagine what people would say if she looked a fright when she left the police station looking the way she was.

Meanwhile, Murdoch was watching his boss , "Maybe you should have Julia look at that, Sir," he suggested once the Inspector lowered his hand. Murdoch winced at the sight. The Inspector's eye was already swollen shut and turning purple. Brackenreid glared at the Detective, but knew he meant it sincerely. The Englishman wouldn't dare admit that it hurt like hell too, especially since it was a woman that inflicted the injury. The Inspector's shoulders sagged as he went in search of Doctor Ogden.

Murdoch turned his attention to Raquel Wilkins, "Care to explain what that was all about?" he asked.

Raquel was busy trying to get her hair back in order, "Perhaps after you talk with Max," she smiled coyly. Murdoch frowned and drew a deep breath. Nothing about this case was easy. With a slight huff, he marched back to the interview room and opened the door. Thankfully Best hadn't pulled one of his fainting spells. The Detective lowered himself into the chair across from the Councillor.

"Detective, just what is all this about?" Best huffed.

"I was hoping you would tell me," Murdoch said as he clasped his hands together on the table.

Best shrugged.

"Okay. Let's start with the theft from the University," Murdoch said as he produced the list from his pocket and slid it across the table.

"Yes, I'm aware of this," Best shoved it back. "I am on the Board of Antiquities, after all," he stated.

"So how is it that when you were found the other day, seemingly dead, with a swatch of cloth in your hand that matched the missing piece from a sack that contained a shrunken head?" Murdoch watched the man across from him.

Again Best shrugged, "I don't recall any fainting spell or cloth."

"The shrunken head is on this list," Murdoch pointed out. "As were the Egyptian amulets that were found not too far from where you found 'dead' the second time," the Detective pushed.

Best struggled and swallowed, "Someone told me where they were, I was going to look and someone spooked me," he stammered.

"Mister Best. Something happened just now in the bullpen. Your wife and a Ms. Raquel Wilkins just had a row. I am willing to bet that you, Ms. Wilkins and the thefts are connected somehow, and I'm going to prove it," Murdoch boldly stated. "Perhaps I should bring Ms. Wilkins, or your wife in here right now," the then threatened.

"No! No, please," Best panicked. "Don't do either," motioning with his hands.

"Why?" Murdoch asked just as Brackenreid entered the room.

"Yes, why?" the Inspector almost hissed. He was totally miffed with the whole situation.

"This will ruin me," Best sighed and bowed his head.

"Perhaps you should have thought about that before you did what ever it is you did, Sunshine," Brackenreid said as he leaned forward on the table, looming over the man.

Best sighed. "I think it's best that I speak to my wife, first," he looked up at the Detective and the Inspector.

Brackenreid straighten up, "Fine then. And then you are going to spill the beans," he added. Murdoch stood and looked at his boss; he couldn't help but feel sorry for him as his swollen eye looked even worse. "I'll bring in Mrs. Best," he said as the two men left the room.

"Make sure this ends and soon," Brackenreid cautioned. "I've had enough of this nonsense," he sputtered as he walked back to his office.

Murdoch more than felt the same as he walked to his office to invited Florence Best to join her husband in the interview room, "Mrs. Best. Your husband would like a word with you," he tried to smiled feeling that what the Councillor was going to say was not what Mrs. Best would want to hear. She stood and he escorted her to the room, opened the door and left them to talk. Murdoch walked back to his office where he found Julia.

"The poor Inspector," Julia tried to hide her smile. "He told me what happened," she stated.

"It was quite the sight," Murdoch agreed.

"So now what?" Ogden asked.

"Seems that Councillor Best wanted to talk to his wife. Perhaps to tell her what he's been up to," the Detective purposely looked out to the bullpen at Raquel Wilkins.

"Hmmm," Julia noted. "Do you think they had an affair?"

"The more I think about it, I think they did. And I think Councillor Best was stealing the antiquities to sell them and get the money for," his words trailed at the shill sound of Florence Best calling for help.

Murdoch, Ogden, Brackenreid, Crabtree, and Higgins rushed to the interview room. The Detective, Inspector, and Doctor entered the room to fine Councillor Best flat out on the floor. Julia swooped down and felt for a pulse. There was none. She looked up at the men and shook her head, "He's really dead now. There's no pulse what-so-ever," she stated. Murdoch crossed his heart and then looked at Florence, "Did he say anything?"

"Only that he loved me," Mrs. Best said before she cupped her hands over her mouth and began to sob as Julia continued to look over the body.

Murdoch looked over to Brackenreid, "We need to talk to..." he stopped talking as he looked out to the other room. Raquel Wilkins saw what was happening and took it upon herself to make a hasty retreat, and a successful one at that. She was never seen again.

"Murdoch?" Brackenreid questioned.

"Our only other suspect seems to have disappeared," William stated. "I suppose this case is now closed."

"Bloody hell," Brackenreid cursed as he too looked out into the room. "Scotch," he sputtered.

"Sir? May I join you?" Murdoch meekly asked.

"Come along, Murdoch," the Inspector half laughed as the two men walked back to Brackenreid's office.

The End.


End file.
